


Let's paint the world red

by LlewellyenAnChaisleainDubh



Series: Blood and Whiskey [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM, Child Abuse, Childhood, Explicit Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 62
Words: 73,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LlewellyenAnChaisleainDubh/pseuds/LlewellyenAnChaisleainDubh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the world turns wrong. A boy who could be sane become insane, become a screwed up teenager, a soldier and finally the tiger of a criminal mastermind. In contrast to the tiger the criminal mastermind, well, he calls himself a “consulting criminal” has never been supposed to be sane. So Sebastian Moran and James “Jim” Moriarty make their way in a wrong turned world, before they meet finally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, a big thanks to nitininha who corrected the text (and who had to deal with my English), secondly thanks to all the people who wanted to read this fanfiction and who assured me to publish it.  
> In this Prologue we enter a church in South Boston in the middle in the night, but please, don't think that means it's peaceful night. Peaceful nights are boring, aren't they?  
> Neither Sebastian, Jim nor the song "Devil in a midnight mass" by Billy Talent are mine

**Prologue**

The church was dark and cold and silent. The priest lit a candle, although he didn't need the light to find his way to the altar. He had served long enough in this church to know where the benches for the believers began and where they ended and where he needed to be careful, because there were stairs in front of the altar. But he lit the candle anyway, it was his routine and he was exceptionally glad about it.

 

In the front row of the benches sat a man. That wouldn't be something special, were it not for the fact that it was the middle of the night. The priest knew he had locked the doors of the church, like every night at 8 o'clock. He had to do it to avoid criminals, who didn't even have respect for the holy Catholic Church anymore. The man didn't look up, so the priest walked up to him.

 

"Can I help you, my son?"

 

Finally, the man looked up. The priest nearly stepped back. He knew that face, he knew it very well, but it was impossible. He was dead, he was dead! The man in front of him drank himself to death, the priest had led the funeral himself.

 

"Yeah, I know, I look very much like him," the man said. He laughed quietly. His voice scared the hell out of the priest. It was too cold for a man like him, a man who looked 30 years old, maybe 35.

"Who are you, my son?"

"Firstly," the man started smiling. "I'm not your fucking son-" the priest crossed himself on hearing the swear in the house of God - "secondly, you of all people should remember me."

The priest stared into his eyes, which seemed black in the dim light, but then the man turned his head a little bit. The light of the fire fell on them. Cold blue eyes, that made the priest shiver.

"Now you remember, don't you?" The man was still smiling, but it wasn't a friendly smile.

"Th-that's impossible," stuttered the priest.

The man laughed like the dead man buried in the graveyard of the little Catholic Church. A dead laughter. "You thought I was dead, too, didn't you? Drank myself to death just like ma old man."

"N-no, I didn't, that -!"

"Okay, then you hoped," the man cut him off. "In fact, it doesn't matter, does it?"

He stood up. The last time the priest had seen him, he’d been so little, so thin. But now a six feet tall man with muscles like a bear stood in front of him. He wore a sleeveless shirt, so the priest could see the scars on his forearm, the little circles on his skin, which were cigarette burns from a long time ago; scars, which were made by knifes, much fresher.

"Oh God, I didn't know," the priest sobbed.

The man just looked at him. Nothing but contempt in his eyes.

"I'm a sinner, I know, but I thought... I thought, you would like it, too, you said you liked to look at boys."

"Boys my age, you dumb idiot!"

 

A fist met the face of the priest. His head jerked to the side, his head was spinning, vision black and spotty. He heard a ringing in his left ear. A second punch, then the man grabbed him at the scruff of his neck, pulling him to the altar. Somewhere a song played (or was playing, or began to play).

 

_A devil in a midnight mass,_

_who prayed behind stained glass._

_A memory of Sunday class,_

_resurrected from the past._

 

A strange high voice, not the voice of the man who pinned him down on the altar, joined the singing. The man - it was a male voice, though it was a high one - stood somewhere at the entrance of the church.

 

"Help me," the priest whispered, before the man in front of him crammed his mouth with something soft.

 

_Silent night for the rest of my life._

_Silent night for the rest of my life._

_Silent night 'till they find the knife._

 

Something scratched against his cheeks. He whimpered when he felt that it was a knife.

"I want to see you play with him, tiger," the man in the background said. His voice was so full of joy that it made the priest cry. The devil. The devil was in the house of God, in the holy, Catholic Church.

"Yes, sir," the other man said. The other man, whose name was Sebastian Moran.

 

They found the priest on the altar in the next morning. Every single finger was broken. Someone had yanked out the nails, the feet were the same, burned skin on the forearm showed that someone had stubbed out cigarettes on him. The torture had taken a long time untill the throat was cut. On the bare chest, where the robe had been torn, the word  _pedophile_ was written with the priest’s blood.


	2. April 2nd 1977, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Sebastian killed was the day he was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go again to nitininha and all the wonderful people in the chat. I don't know how realistic this chapter is, but I wanted to write it like it is now.

**Chapter 1: April 2** **nd** **1977, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

It hurt. She cried. Her husband told her to be quiet. It couldn't be that bad. The three-year-old Elizabeth next to her in the backseat of their car cried, too.

 

"Oh, shut the fuck up!," screamed Augustus Moran at his daughter and both girls, the little one and his wife, shivered. "You didn't give birth to a baby, you stupid thing!"

 

Elizabeth's blue eyes were wet from crying, but she became silent. Her eyes went dead, as every time she'd separated herself from the real world. Her mother, Maria Moran, knew that feeling. It wasn't the first time that Augustus hat screamed at them because he wanted silence and it wouldn't be the last one. Well, she hoped so.

 

The baby in her body moved. She felt it; she felt it; she felt it! It felt like it wanted to rip her guts off. It hurt so much more, than when she gave birth to Elizabeth. _Please, let it be a boy and let it be alright_ , she begged to a god, who – according to Augustus – didn't exist. She begged because it would make their relationship better if she gave Augustus a son, his own little soldier. He always wanted a son and he never forgave her that Elizabeth was a girl, although she was so nice, so quiet.

 

But he could be such a nice man, so charming. Maria closed her eyes. She remembered him, like he was before the war. He had been a young fellow soldier from a military base near Boston, where they lived together now, tall and handsome. His uniform fitted him very well when he entered the pub where Maria and a few friends celebrated St. Paddy's day, although she herself had German and not Irish roots like Augustus and most of their friends. But she grew up in South Boston like him, so most people around her were Irish.

 

Augustus and his fellow soldiers came to their table, paying a round for the girls. He winked at her and she giggled when he gave her her beer.

"What's ya name?" He asked smiling.

"Maria Schmidt."

"Oh, German?"

"My grandparents were, but you know... the Nazis."

"Your name isn't Jewish."

"I'm not Jewish and my parents aren't Jewish, either."

"So, why did your grandparents flee to America?"

"Their friends were Jewish and the Nazis brought them into a concentration camp. My grandparents wanted to protect their little kids from the Nazis, so they said they belonged to them and flew."

"Wow, that's brave."

"Yes, it is."

 

They talked a little bit about their families – Augustus' father was a soldier just like him, his mother was a nice housewife from South Boston. They had Irish roots, but it had been a long time ago the family came to America. At the end of a very nice night Augustus brought Maria back home. She said goodbye with a kiss on his cheeks before she ran into the house, so her father wouldn’t see, that she’d come with a stranger.

 

They had a few dates and one month later she introduced Augustus to her parents. He asked them if he could marry her and they said yes.

 

The next contraction woke her up. She screamed because it hurt, it hurt so much! Augustus glared at her through the driving mirror, but he didn't say anything. His eyes were so dead since Vietnam. They'd never glanced in excitement again. She sobbed, trying to keep it in, but it didn't work. Something warm and wet dropped down her legs. _Too soon_ , she thought.

 

At the hospital the nurse came to help her into a wheelchair. The warm liquid at her leg wasn't amniotic fluid, it was too red. Augustus didn't look at her. Elizabeth saw the blood and started to cry again. The nurse got one or two of their colleagues to watch after the little crying girl, while she rolled Maria into the hospital. Everyone was moving and shouting. Maria's head was so heavy. Her baby, she thought over and over and over again. She was shaking, her vision blurred.

 

"My baby," she whispered.

Somebody told her everything would be fine, but she knew that was wrong. Maria remembered a discussion with her doctor. She was too skinny, too weak.

 

"God, what has your husband done to you?" the doctor had asked. She'd answered that he'd been a good man, a good soldier, a good father and a good friend. All of these words had been lies. Her doctor's eyes had said the same, but he couldn't have done anything. That night she had started to cry after her husband had left the house to go to a pub. She was crying now, too, wasn't she? She didn't want to die, she wanted her baby, she wanted to hold it close to her chest. She wanted to leave Augustus, live with her sister a while, just as long she didn't have a job and couldn't pay the rent for her own flat. Elizabeth could come with her. Little, clever Elizabeth.

 

She was a nice girl, quiet, her head full of stories Maria had told her about princes and princesses, knights and dragons. Elizabeth said she wanted to be a knight, so she could protect her mother. They never talked about that again and they never would.

 

"I want to see my little girl become a knight," she whimpered when she got a new contraction. Pain and blood. Everything went black and red and then black again.

"She is collapsing," someone said.

"We must get the child!" another one answered.

She thought: _No, no, let it die with me, let my little baby die with me. It should never know its father and this dark, dark world. Please, let my baby alone! Let it die! Let it die!_

But she couldn't open her mouth.

 

~Φ~

 

He looked down at this little thing who had killed his wife. It was so little, so red and it looked so innocent with blue eyes up at him. Licking his lips he thought he could kill it. He could press a pillow on this little face and no one would wonder. Babies were so weak little things, it was so easy to kill them. It wasn't that he hated it (the doctors said this tiny thing was a _him_ , but it looked too weak for a boy) for that, what it had done. Well, maybe he hated it a little bit. Elizabeth would grow up without a mother. He had the responsibility now.


	3. April 2nd 1981, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has birthday, but he isn't enjoying it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still thanks to nitininha and to all the people from the mormor chat, you are so awesome guys!

**Chapter 2: April 2 nd 1981, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

Sebastian kicked the blanket away. One moment he thought about jumping out of the bed, like the kids did it on TV when they had a birthday. Unfortunately, his father would be angry with him because it would be too loud and Augustus Moran hated to be woken up by his son. The circle on his forearm, which Sebastian had gotten a few weeks ago, because he had woken his father prickled at this thought. He scratched it ignoring the pain (it wasn't so bad, it wasn't even a fresh wound). The boy sneaked off to his wardrobe, where he got his warmest sweater and trousers for the day.

 

Although it was already spring it wasn't warm these days and the heating hadn't work for a few weeks now, so the room was cold as hell. Sebastian got dressed, brushed his hair alone (he was very proud that he did most of the stuff alone). After that he went to the bathroom quietly so his dad wouldn't be woken up, where he brushed his teeth and washed hiswith cold water.

 

The whole time he was listening to the house. Had anyone moved? Had they got mail? Sebastian got mail every time for his birthday. It was from auntie Elizabeth, the sister of his dead mother. She sent toys; the last time little tin soldiers, that he loved. He hoped he got a few more this year because Augustus Moran had scrunched a few when he was angry, but they weren't the best thing of the Elizabeth-packet, as Sebastian called it, it was the photo of his big sister, who was named after their auntie.

 

He couldn't remember her, because she'd lived with auntie Elizabeth in New York since his birth, but sometimes it comforted him to know that there was a relative of him that wasn't an adult yet.

 

Still quietly the boy went to the kitchen, where he made himself a little sandwich. It was still safe, but when Augustus Moran got up, Sebastian had to go to his room, where he’d spent the rest of the day til his father went to a pub at the next corner. Then Sebastian had the time to eat again, clean the room maybe, before he went to bed.

 

There wasn't much to do in the household of the Moran family. Most things were done by auntie Katie, who came once a week. It was the only day Sebastian could go out, because, after she washed the clothes and cleaned the rooms a little bit, she went with him to a close by playground. Sebastian ran around, played cops and robbers (he was mostly the robber, because he looked so dangerous with his scars and bruises) and hide and seek with other kids . After a while auntie Katie called him. Different to other boys he came directly when she called his name.

 

"You must follow the rules of the adults," his father repeated very often, when Sebastian didn't follow his orders. This didn't happen often, but sometimes the boy didn't hear his father calling his name and Augustus would come into his son’s room and ask him what he wanted: The belt or the fist. Sebastian usually chose the fist, because it didn't hurt so much, but that didn’t mean that Augustus fulfilled his wish. If he had a good day, he would take the fist, as Sebastian wished. On very bad days he struck him more often than usual. Sometimes Sebastian couldn't move after that, so his father punished him in his room.

 

But at the moment Augustus Moran was still asleep, so Sebastian sat down at the table waiting for the mail. The chair he sat on was very hard, but when he was in Katie's flat he could sit on cushioned chairs. Unfortunately that wasn't often.

 

Auntie Katie was a wonderful and lovely lady, thought Sebastian, but she had a bunch of kids and hardly the time to care about her brother’s son, too. That was okay, he thought. He understood that it was very stressful in a house full of kids. It was so loud there and Sebastian knew how bad noisy children were for their parents. His father told him all the time.

 

That was the reason, why he had to stay quiet. If kids played loudly, screamed and argued with each other, parents would get mad. When parents got mad, they punished their kids. And children didn't want that. Well, except Sebastian’s cousins. They were always so loud, but it didn't seem to bother auntie Katie and her husband Patrick. That was why Sebastian loved to be at theirs. He could play with his cousins, Mary and Patrick junior, Isabelle and Jack, Grace and Eoin and the twins Alan and Anthony, who they called Tony. Mary was the youngest, named after Sebastian's mother, although her name was Maria, the German version. She was just two years old and followed Sebastian everywhere. When she was walking around, she babbled things he barely could understand, but it sounded very cute.

 

Clonk!

 

Sebastian straightened his back, jumped from the chair – although he would regret it later – and ran to the mailbox. A narrow package lay on the carpet in front of the door, where the mailbox was. The brown paper rustled under Sebastian's little fingers. He went back to the kitchen to get the scissor for the ribbon around the package. The paper was torn by him. Under it, a little board box surfaced. The boy opened it and found a second box, this time a metal one. Just like the first, he opened it.

 

A girl with blue eyes and blond, long hair just like his looked up to him. She was seven or eight and beautiful, even if she was a little bit pale and had a very serious facial expression for a girl in her age. Next to her stood a smiling woman with blond hair, too. Sebastian never saw a picture of his mother, but he always imagined that she looked like his auntie Elizabeth. Different from her nephew and niece, she had green eyes – Sebastian and his sister had their father’s eyes, cold and strong. Auntie Elizabeth's smile looked very true while her arm was around his sister's neck. They looked happy. Did happy families look like this in photos?

 

He didn't know. Most photos in his auntie’s house didn't show the family. They never did family photos because Patrick loved spontaneous pictures. So instead of family photos they had photos where the kids were playing and sleeping, one of Patrick's and Katie's wedding and even a picture of Sebastian hang on the family wall. He could barely walk, said always Katie, when he looked at the photo, but with his little fingers around the grid of Mary's cot, he could stand very well. With a look of surprise he looked up at the person who took the photo. In fact he didn't remember it, but he was so little, that this was a good excuse.

 

Someone rang the bell. Sebastian froze. Oh dear God, no, no, no! His own voice in his head screamed. Augustus Moran hated to be woken up. It didn't matter if it was Sebastian's fault or someone else’s it would be always Sebastian who’d be punished for it. Shaking, he went quickly to the door and opened it.

 

Just like her brother, auntie Katie was tall, even less beefy than Augustus and more round and soft. They had the same red curls, blue eyes, although Katie's always shined, while Augustus' were dull. She smiled when she saw her little nephew.

 

"Oh, here you are, my little birthday-kid," she said with a singsong voice, she always talked like she would sing. Her arms wrapped around him so he could smell her, the smell of fresh-made food and soap. "Happy birthday." She gave him a kiss on the cheek before letting him go. Auntie was the only adult that could touch Sebastian, without making him jerk.

"Thanks, auntie, but could you please be a little bit quieter?"

Too late. A door slammed, Sebastian jerked at the sound, then he listened to his father’s steps. They were heavy like always. "Who is it, boy?"

"A-auntie K-katie, sir," he answered stuttering, although he knew, he knew, how much his father hated it.

"Fucking hell, does she know how early it is?"

Katie's lips became a small line when her brother came to both of them. "Morning, brother."

"Kate," he greeted her while his fingers were clawing in his son’s shoulder. "And what did I say to you about stuttering, son?"

"Leave him alone, Augustus," Katie snapped, grabbing her nephew to pull him near to her body.

Augustus' eyes went dark and Sebastian shivered because he knew what would happen.

 

And then the fist met Katie's cheek. Someone screamed. Sebastian needed a minute to understand it was him. Augustus grabbed Katie by the hair, pulling her into their flat and Katie was screaming and swearing and Sebastian followed them. He was usually scared of his father, but he couldn't remember a fear like that. It wasn't just fear, it was something different, too. Something dangerous. It made him kick his father’s knee. He didn't know that it was the shock or the real pain, but Augustus let Katie free, who grabbed Sebastian automatically. She picked the little boy up and ran out of the house.

 

Some neighbors looked because of the screaming and Patrick, who had waited a few steps back from the house, ran to his wife, stood in front of her and her nephew as Augustus left the house angrily. Patrick was taller than him, stronger from his work for the construction. Even a man like Augustus realized that, so he didn't try to get his son or his sister back.

 

He just pointed at them. Sebastian very close to his auntie, who held him and heard Augustus shouting: "Don't come back, you little scum, I will kill you!"


	4. April 3rd 1981, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the zoo should heal a few wounds of Sebastian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the Franklin Park Zoo, which Sebastian and his family visit didn't have tigers 1983, let us call it the freedom of artists.  
> Anyway I thank nitininha for the correction and the guys from the chat for the support! You are too cool, guys!

**Chapter 3: April 3 rd 1981, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

Like every morning Sebastian woke up very early. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. An arm lay around him, it was warm and comfortable, too comfortable for the mattress in his room. Ah, yes. His auntie and Patrick took him to their home, but he couldn't remember the day, except his father’s angry face.

 

Sebastian turned around. In front of him lay his oldest cousin, Eoin. The boy’s arm was still around Sebastian’s smaller body. In the flat there weren't enough beds, so Sebastian had to sleep with one of his cousins and Eoin was the only one who said he wanted to sleep in a bed with his cousin. Well, in fact he wasn't the only one, but Mary was still sleeping in a cot that was too small for Sebastian.

Probably Eoin felt his cousin moving, because he opened his eyes lazily. "Mornin'," he mumbled sleepily.

 

"Morning," Sebastian answered quietly.

"How early is it?"

"Round about five o'clock."

"Oh god," the teenager answered. "Why do you know that?"

"I always wake up at this time."

Eoin smiled tired. "You are crazy, you know?"

Sebastian shrugged.

His cousin laughed and pulled him closer. "Mum said we will go to the zoo this afternoon, because of your birthday."

"Did she?"

"Yep. What animal would you like to see the most?"

 

Sebastian thought about the picture books which Katie gave to him. Most of them were old and used by her own kids, but it was okay, because she explained him everything. He remembered a book about countries and the animals which lived there.

 

"I like tigers," he said quietly.

"Oh yeah, tigers are great!"

Yeah, they were. They were strong and independent, only humans could hurt them. Well, if they had a gun.

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian's fingers wrapped around the cold railing. Patrick read:

"The tiger, in Latin Panthera tigris, is the largest cat species. It can reach a body length of up to eleven feet and weight of up to 675 pounds. Also classified with the genus Panthera are lions, leopard and jaguars. Tigers are territorial and generally solitary but social animals. Often requiring large contiguous areas of habitat that support their prey requirements. This, coupled with the fact that they are indigenous to some of the more densely populated places on Earth, has caused significant conflicts with humans.

These tigers here are Bengal tigers. It is the most common species." he explained.

 

Sebastian watched one of the big, golden animals rip a piece of meat of a bigger piece. Its yellow teeth glanced in the sunlight. They really looked like big cats. The boy was wondering whether they would purr like the neighbor’s cat if he petted it. He imagined that their fur would be soft, their big paw would kick the air, moving, like the tiger who would lie at his mother chest and drink milk. The tiger looked up, like it had read his thoughts. Its yellow eyes glared at the boy, who wasn't scared. He even smiled.

 

~Φ~

 

He remembered the look, when he lay in a bed with Eoin that night. Auntie Katie and Patrick were fighting in the kitchen, he heard them.

"We can't keep him! We have neither the space nor the money!" Patrick screamed.

"And what should I do with him?!" Katie replied.

"What about his other aunt?"

"Oh, you mean the woman who said she never wanted to see his face because he killed her sister?!"

"She could take Elizabeth!"

"Yeah, but she didn't want Sebastian! No one wanted him, you remember?"

 

Sebastian's chest hurt, he blinked his tears away. A boy didn't cry, his father always said. His father... He said Sebastian shouldn't come back and Sebastian wasn't stupid enough to ignore the threat. What should he do, if auntie Katie and Patrick didn't want him anymore? Should he live on the streets or in an children's home?

 

He was turning around. Eoin didn't notice that. His chest moved up and down like it did when he was asleep. How could he sleep when his parents were fighting? They screamed so loud, just like Sebastian's father did when he was pissed. The awoken boy bit his lips while he was listening to his aunt and her husband. That night he didn't fall asleep, but he dreamed anyway.

 

He dreamed to be a tiger in the jungle, it was hot, but he didn't care. No animal tried to hurt him, he was the one who hurt.

 

A group of deers browsed. He stood in the shadow of big, green trees, looking at them. They looked so peaceful. He licked his lips. One of them noticed him, it looked up, but too late! He jumped towards and ran. His claws pierced the soft flesh. The deer made a high noise, but it was too late. He brought it to the ground, where he broke its neck. Warm blood filled his mouth, it tasted like metal, a quite familiar taste because his father punched him once in the face. Sebastian lost one of his baby teeth and it bled. But this, this was different, because it wasn't his own. His heart was beating so fast, so hard and for one reason, he couldn't figure out why, he smiled.


	5. August 15th 1983, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has his first day in the first class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Nitininha, to correct my English. And thanks to the other nice persons of the chat.

**Chapter 4: August 15** **th** **1983, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

Cold blue eyes stared back at him from the mirror. They looked so much older, some people said, than the boy to whom they belonged. His fingers tied the tie with fast and studied movements while he was ignoring Kevin’s look, who was a year younger than him and shared a room with him. Kevin was jealous that Sebastian started elementary school today. Sebastian himself didn't care in fact.

 

It wasn’t a big difference from the kindergarten. The only thing he enjoyed there were sports and the free time. He wasn't very good at English because of his stuttering (it had gotten worse since he had gotten there), maths was boring and the art teacher said he shouldn't draw tigers, which ate deers, because it would scare the other kids. Fuck the other kids, he'd thought. Most of them had been scared because Sebastian was taller than them and because he had punched everyone who tried to insult him. Once a boy had asked him about his mother and Sebastian had broken his nose. The teachers had consulted one of his caregivers. He had been grounded for three weeks, but his caregiver had told the teachers Sebastian's sad story, so they had passed on an expulsion. After that nobody had talked to him anymore, not that he wanted that they'd talk to him. In fact it had helped him.

 

That day he had sat on a chair in front of the principal’s office, he had learned that he shouldn't be seen when he punched someone.

 

_Rule one: Don't piss of the adults, they have the power to destroy you, physically and mentally._

_Rule two: Don't play the victim, unless you find someone who has more power (usually an adult)._

_Rule three: Don't let them know that you want to see the world burning._

 

These three rules he had written in the diary one caregiver of the children's home had given to him when he had arrived two years ago, nothing else. Someone had told him it would help him to write, but Sebastian wasn't good at expressing his feelings. He never cried, he never said when he was scared, or told anyone what his father had done to him. His aunt had before she had left him at the children's home, he knew that. And it had been okay, it had really been, but that didn't mean he had been happy about it. Sometimes she and her children visited him. Patrick had never joined them.

 

At the end he was ready to go to his first lesson in elementary school. Kevin sulked, but Sebastian didn't care. In fact Kevin was a nice guy, very quiet, but nice. He'd followed Sebastian's orders since the day they had gotten a room together. Maybe he'd seen that Sebastian had been stronger, maybe it'd been about Sebastian's height, but in the end it didn't matter.

 

"St-stop the s-s-sulking, it's piti-f-ful," Sebastian said, stuttering, before he left the room. Nobody mentioned how good he looked or how good it was that he could take care of himself.

 

At the beginning of his life in the orphan house, the caregivers had been impressed, but with the time routine had taken over. He said goodbye to them and they wished him good luck – Sebastian was the only one that year who started elementary school.

 

When he entered the schoolbus, it was noisy. All the other kids were talking with each other, a few of his age, a few older. He automatically held his bag closer. Sebastian has never been a very social boy, he didn't like to talk with other kids he didn't know. Most of them made jokes about stuttering boys and he hated it when someone made jokes about him. A part of him wanted to destroy any person who dared to do that, because nobody insulted the tiger. And Sebastian was a tiger inside.

 

Fortunately nobody noticed him when he entered the bus with a few other kids who lived in the same street, of the children’s home. He sat behind the bus driver because he knew that the social ones would sit at the back. The ones who talked about the holidays and made jokes about everything. Those were the boys who jumped out of the bed when they had their birthday and who planned tricks for the teachers. In in their innocence, they could still be very cruel.

 

Everything went fine till Sebastian entered the classroom. His teacher, a woman in her 40s, looked at him like she knew him. The look made him shiver inside, but he didn't let her see that. And then the kids had to introduce themselves.

 

Sebastian's stomach turned upside down when he listened to a girl, whose last name began with A: "My name is Catherine," she said, "I'm six years old and like dolls and fairy tales. My father works as a construction manager, my mom is a housewife."

 

Just like Catherine the other kids introduced themselves with their first name, some with their family names, they told the class of twenty children how old they were (all were six, what a surprise!) and what their parents did. The last part scared Sebastian the most. What should he say? That he'd killed his mother at his birth? That his father was a drunk and an ex-soldier who had fought in Vietnam?

 

His head became hot, and he knew he was blushing when the teacher, a Mrs Smith, said his name. Like everyone before him, he stood up. "I-I'm S-s-s-sebastian," he said under his breath. Some other kids giggled because of his stuttering, but not the few he had been in kindergarten with. _Bite them, rip them_ , said a voice inside his head, while his face was so, so hot. "I-I'm six years old... A-and... I... W-well... I-I don't have parents." Again the teacher gave him a strange look, but he just felt it, because he stared at his desk.

 

The rest of the class he didn't remember. He heard a few kids whispering about him, his heart was beating too hard in his chest while he clenched his fist so he wouldn't scream, because he was so frustrated and angry. The blood rushed in his ears.

 

The break was deliverance, but before he could go out, Mrs Smith stopped him. She had brown eyes, which looked down coldly at him. "Why did you lie, Sebastian?" She asked strictly.

He looked up, watched a hank of her dark brown, almost black hair falling outta the knot at the back of her head. "Wh-What?" He managed to say.

"Why did you lie about your father, I asked!"

Sebastian jerked, when her voice got louder. "I-I... I..."

 

Of course his caregivers had talked with her about his past. It should have made the teachers more sensitive, so that they might avoid screaming at him directly. Well, obviously it hadn't worked on Mrs Smith.

 

"Your father's a war hero, Sebastian, you and your aunt shouldn't lie about him!"

Now he remembered her. Mrs Smith was the daughter of one of his father’s neighbors. When Augustus had been sober, he had flirted with her sometimes. She had been – of course – impressed by the ex-soldier, especially because Augustus Moran could be very charming to women (he had used to have a few "female friends", like he'd called them) and Mrs Smith had been stupid enough to be taken in by him.

He looked her in the eyes and managed to say without stuttering: "You are right, Mrs Smith, I'm sorry. Can I go to the others now?"

Something in his look seemed to be frightening, because the woman shivered before she nodded. "O-Of course," she said and let him go.


	6. Chapter 5: 3rd September, Dublin, Leinster, Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far away from Boston in Ireland a boy learns how to use secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha for beta-ing this chapter and the nice guys from the chat, who want to see me dead.

**Chapter 5: 3** **rd** **September, Dublin, Leinster, Ireland**

While the other children ran around playing hide and seek and cops and robbers and all those games children played, he was sitting in a corner of the playground and reading a book for six year old kids, although he was just four. His mummy always told him how clever he was, how smart and quiet and decent, but she didn't know anything. With a smile and “yes, mummy, I love you, mummy,” she was manipulated. He wouldn't use those things with his father, because his father was clever. Well, cleverer than the most adults, so he wasn't  manipulable , and until now his son hadn’t found his pressure point. In contrast, his nanny was too careless.

 

She was a pretty lady in her 20s. Dark brown hair, almost black, green eyes. Gwen was nice and lovely, too lovely in fact. But it made it easier to manipulate her, as she wasn't what his father understood as a good standard. Yes, she was always well-dressed, not wearing skirts too short, but she flirted a lot with Patrick, the gardener. He was of her age, nice and with an open smile. He'd complained once or twice about dead animals he had found in the garden. Squirrels and birds. Someone had opened their chest, some organs had been removed. Of course he hadn't known who had done that, but he'd suspected his boss’ son. It had been more a feeling, an instinct, which had told him that the boy was evil. But anyway, he wasn't bothered by Gwen’s flirting. He was, in fact, flattered. His boss’ son, the boy with the book at the corner of the playground, whose name was Jim, often called Jimmy, looked into his books and pretended that he didn't see or hear anything, but of course he did. Jimmy heard when Gwen and Patrick met in Gwen's room, which lay next to his. Gwen giggled and after a while she moaned, Patrick groaned.

 

Even four year old Jim knew what it meant. Once he had seen his parents doing “it”. His father had told him that it was filthy to watch, even if it had been interesting, because mummy had sounded like he had hurt her, yet she hadn't done anything against it. “It” was just a thing between husband and wife and Jimmy knew that Gwen and Patrick weren't married. According to his father a relationship like that was wrong, but it would only be wrong if someone found out. Well, not  _someone_ . His father. Gwen and Patrick would get the sack, not to forget the words James Moriarty senior would say, about sleeping around and Catholic decency. It always ended with the church in Moriarty Manor, which was located close to Dublin, where Jimmy's school was.

 

So every time Gwen wanted him to bed early, but he didn't, he would say he would tell his father. He loved how her face went pale and her eyes widened when he said that. That was what Fear looked like, he noticed. Once she had a big fight about that with Patrick, who didn't tell Jimmy's father about the animals anymore, since Jim had told him that he “would like it when Patrick and Gwen would marry”. Since then Patrick had been very nice to him, although he’d cross himself sometimes when Jimmy passed by him. The boy didn't care at all. Patrick could think that he worked for the father of the devil, it didn't matter.

 

A few kids whispered about him, and he looked up to watch them playing and running. They also feared him, he knew, but that was good, wasn't it? They didn't disturb him when he was reading, so it was really good. Although he wanted to know their secrets, so he could use them against the other kids, just like he did with Patrick and Gwen.

 

The break was over and the children went back to their classrooms. Jimmy went slower than most of them, because he hated the push and shove before the kids were finally in, but when he wanted to go in, his teacher, Mrs O'Hara, stopped him.

 

“Can I talk with you a minute, Jim?”  
He nodded, before he asked with a shaky voice: “Did I do something wrong?” Of course he didn't and he knew that, but it was a normal thought. His voice was just shaking to make it easier to believe that he was an ordinary boy.

“No, no, not at all. It's just... I want to talk with your mother this evening, would that be okay?”

Again he nodded, looking up with big, black eyes. “And I really didn't do something wrong? Because I'm a good boy, I don't fight with the other kids and I always come on time, even after the breaks. ”

“Yeah, but it's not about something you did wrong, Jimmy,” she said, her voice was warm and lovely.

“O-Okay.” He wiped a few tears away.

Mrs O'Hara smiled weakly, and patted his head. “Now come, class’s begun!”

He nodded again and followed her.

 

So that evening he sat in a corner of the classroom. He looked into his book, pretending he was reading while Mrs O'Hara talked with his mummy. The truth was that he was listening, and not reading. Of course he knew that adults hated to be eavesdropped, but he couldn't resist.

 

“Jim... Jim is very quiet, isn't he?”  
His mother looked worried, as he should feel, but he couldn't. “Yeah, yeah, he is, indeed. He is a really good boy. Did he do something wrong?”  
“No, no, but I'm worried.”  
“Why?”  
“He doesn't seem to like to play with other kids. I mean, he... he is here to become more social, isn't he? But he barely talks with the others.”

 

Jimmy frowned in his corner. More social? What did that even mean? He was never alone, even when he was sleeping. Gwen was just a call away. It was almost annoying how much he had to deal with people. Well, it was totally annoying, but he felt the look of his mother on him, so he looked like he had a problem with a word. After a few seconds he stood up and walked up to her.

 

“Mummy, what means that word?” He asked pointing at one that was long. He didn't even notice that he was holding his book of fairy tales written by the Brothers Grimm.

She looked at the book, her black hair falling over her shoulder on the book. “Ferryman, darling. It's a man who brings people or things from one side of a river to the other.”

“Ah,” said Jimmy, although he already knew that. “Do we need to stay longer, mummy? Didn't I really do something wrong?”

“No, no, sweetie, it's fine, just... let us talk a little bit more, yeah? You can read your book.”  
  


Jimmy nodded and went back to the table with the chairs for the children. He put the book in his lap. The women were quiet for a moment before they decided he wasn't listening anymore (although he was, of course).

 

“Well, what should I do?”

“Maybe he shouldn't read so much. Don't give him books for school, so he has nothing to do, except playing with the other kids.”  
“But he loves his books.”  
“Yes, but he really should talk with other children. It's better for him.”

 

Jimmy felt that his mother was looking at him. But she wouldn't dare, would she? No, she knew that he would be angry and sad if he didn't have his books. She didn't want that, he was her only child so...

 

“Yeah, yeah, maybe you are right.”  
He had to have misheard her.


	7. 12th September 1983, Dublin, Leinster, Republic of Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Socialising is so hard, thinks Jim, but it can be so useful in the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I want excuse, if the Irish part isn't right, I used an translator and don't know a person, who is Irish, so I had to believe the translator. You find the translation at the end.  
> As always I wanted to thank Nitininha and the rest of the gang. You are still awesome (although I sleep too less because of you guys!).

**Chapter 6: 12** **th** **September 1983, Dublin, Leinster, Republic of Ireland**

Jimmy hadn't misheard his mother. The next day he had wanted to take his books to school, his mother had shaken her head and had taken the books away from him.

 

“Jim, you should play with your friends. I know you love your fairy tales, but... you need friends, sweetie. Friends are important. Isn't that what the fairy tales teach you?”

 

No, in fact he'd learned from the fairy tales that you have to be clever or very, very lucky, to get what you want. But he didn't want to be lucky, he wanted to be clever. So clever that nobody could beat him. He wouldn't need luck. So if his mother and his teacher wanted that he got friends, he would make friends and in the end he would have his books back.

 

Well, that was easier said than done. In the beginning he had tried to talk with other children about books, but they had said books were boring. Then he'd tried to play the game his father had showed him once and which he usually played alone: Chess. He was very good at it. He played against his father and sometimes he even won, but the other kids had said it had been boring, too. Well, they didn't even understand the rules.

 

“Why can you make such a move with the tower and not the same with the priest?” Of course they'd meant the _rook_ and the _bishop_ , and not the tower and the priest. That had been annoying enough. _But behave, Jimmy, you need them to get your books back!_ And so he had proposed a game that they wanted to play. He ended up running around the playground and playing robber and cop. Luckily, he was the robber. So he didn't need to follow anyone, he was followed just as he liked it, but even this was hard. He wasn’t in shape to run around for the entire break, so he was caught quicker than he wanted.

 

_Training, I need training_ , he thought breathless when he lay in the sand of the playground again that day. It had rained the day before, so the ground was muddy as were his clothes when his mother picked him up at the end of the day. But she smiled anyway. Maybe she was a little bit proud of him. He hoped that it would calm her and he could get his books back soon.

 

Meanwhile he had found out that Emily acted like a boy because she liked Shaun, who wasn't interested in girls (like every boy in his age). She'd blushed when Jimmy noticed that. Oh, she had begged, he shouldn't tell Shaun, she had almost cried! And of course he wouldn't do such a thing. Well... as long as she gave him her pudding at the end of the lunch. Mrs O'Hara had asked her why she had done that and she had answered that she didn't like pudding anymore and that she knew how much Jimmy loved pudding. Clever girl, he'd thought and smiled at her. He had ignored that she shivered.

 

Anyway, his father was home that day. That wasn't the usually case. Jim didn't know where his father worked (although he knew so much!), but he knew that James Moriarty senior worked across the entire country. Well, even in Great Britain and Northern Ireland, although his father hated it. He was a nationalist, obviously, who thought that Northern Ireland should be part of the Republic of Ireland. At the same time he thought that all Protestants should either leave Ireland or die. Of course he had explained to his son why he hated the Protestants and Great Britain so much. He talked about the Great Famine, about the separation and everything that had happened between Great Britain and Ireland. Jimmy remembered how angry his father had been when 22 members of the IRA were caught because someone had betrayed them. Mummy had taken him with her and they had slept a few days in a hotel in Dublin. And when they were back, everything was okay again.

 

James Moriarty senior waited in the entrance hall when Jimmy and his mother arrived. He was a small but slender man, black hair already grey at the temples and he always wore fancy suits. That day he was wearing a blue one with golden cufflinks. It fitted perfectly.

 

His father lifted Jimmy up, kissing his cheek. Jim actually hated this, but he knew his father wouldn't stop, so he let him. Anyway, the boy was happy when his feet were back on the ground. There was mud on the perfect suit, but James senior didn't seem to notice that.

 

“Do you want to play a round of chess, son?” He asked smiling, but Jim's mother shook her head.

“He should take a bath or shower first. He is dirty and now you are, too.” She smiled lovingly before she kissed his clean cheek.

 

James senior didn't argue with her, instead he picked Jimmy up again, although the boy was struggling because it was enough body contact for one day and he didn't want any more. His father didn't care and brought him to the bathroom next to his bedroom.

 

“I can go alone,” the boy fizzed, but his father just laughed.  
“Yeah, yeah I know, you are a big boy.”  
“Yes, I am indeed.”

 

James senior brought him back to the ground, tousled his infant’s hair and then he turned on the water for a bath.

 

 

“Yeah, i ndáiríre salach, buachaill mór,” he smiled.

“Tá tú salach, freisin, athair,” Jim answered. To speak and listen to Irish was as normal as English for him.

“Sea, ba chóir dom a ghlacadh cith, freisin. Is féidir leat tú féin folctha?”

“Sea, athair, is féidir liom é a dhéanamh.”

“Good, tá mé ag dul a cithfholcadh agus tar éis go bhfuil ar chluiche fichille.”

 

He finally left after Jim told him goodbye and promised to come to him for a chess game after the bath. Then the boy was alone. Finally. He took off his dirty clothes before he got into the tub. It wasn't full yet, but there was enough water to cover his body up to his chest. The hot water was enough to wash away the coarsest dirt. After he had cleaned himself, Jimmy let the dirty water drain before he put new water in the tube. It was so relaxing, that he almost fell asleep, well... he completely fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, a really dirty, big boy”  
> “You are dirty, too, father”  
> “Yes, I should take a shower, too. You can bath yourself?”  
> “Yes, father, I can do it”  
> “Good, I'm going to shower and after that we have a chess match”


	8. 5th August, 1985, Dublin, Leinster, Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim starts to go to a Catholic boy school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and the others in the chatroom (although they don't read it anymore ;) ).

**Chapter 7: 5** **th** **August, 1985, Dublin, Leinster, Ireland**

The train station was full of people who ran and screamed and pushed and shoved. Jim was scared that he would be separated from his mother, so he held her hand tighter than necessary. His father followed them with Jim’s suitcase. His face was blank, not like mummy’s. Mummy looked like she wanted to cry, but she didn't. Maybe because she didn't want to scare him more than he already was.

 

A year before his father had had the  _wonderful_ idea to send him to a Catholic school for boys in the country. Although Jim was young, he knew that he wasn't the kind of boy who should go to a Catholic school. Anyway his father didn't let him argue, so he registered his son at a school that had a great reputation. His parents had had a big fight that night, but he had pretended to sleep like always. Now it was the day he had to leave his parents to live in the countryside with a bunch of boys and (which was the worst!) follow Catholic rules.

 

Jim was never a really religious boy, even his father wanted him to read the bible (which he did, because he didn't want to make his father angry). It was a book full of fairy tales, yes, but his father wanted him to believe in them. In fairy tales! And now he would be surrounded by people, who believe in these stories. Stupid, boring people. Even his classmates in his old class were more fun, even though they were as stupid as every person around him. He sulked. Then they stood at the track, waiting for the train.

 

He looked down at the track bed. A few steps and his brain would decorate it like a broken glass of jam. He almost could hear the people scream, someone would call the ambulance, but it would be too late because his head would be smashed in by a train. His mother would look at his broken body, unable to cry, just like his stupid religious father. But he didn't.

 

Maybe because he wanted to see the world; how far he could go without being caught. Maybe he just wanted to see the world burn. So he didn't take the few steps. He stood there at the track when the train drove in. His mother hugged him. His father said how proud he was of him when he gave him the suitcase. On the train a few fellow pupils and teachers sat. Everything would be fine. So he entered the train, and didn't look out of the window to watch his parents waving like the idiots they were.

 

He went to his wagon, where a group of boys were already seated. They were dressed in a suit for children, not yet the school uniform. But it was just as annoying because they all looked the same. His seat was next to a boy with bright orange-red hair, freckles and pale skin. A typical ginger. What a cliché! His water-blue eyes were wet and red from crying. Snot dripping from his nose. Jim just hoped that boy had a handkerchief with him.

 

The boy in front of him looked more interesting. Like Jim, he had dark hair, but blue eyes. He was one, no, two years older and it wasn't his first year at the Catholic school. Most kids looked insecure, he didn't.

 

Jim gave him a hand, like ordinary people did. “Hello,” he smiled kindly “I'm Jim Moriarty, what's your name?”

“Samuel Ò Ceallaigh.” They shook hands. “It's your first year, right?”  
“Yes.”  


They talked a while, ordinary talk, boring, annoying in fact, but Jim learned that people liked it when you made conversation, even if it was boring and nothing special.

 

So he was glad when Samuel said he wanted to read a little bit. Jim took out his book as well. His mother had given it to him a few days before. She said he should use it in the school, maybe it would be a good idea. It was some sort of training for the brain, a way to remember things better. He stroked the cover before he opened it.

 

_How to build a mind palace?_

 

He took in the information he had about Samuel. This guy was two years older than Jim, so he was eight years old. One or both parents had dark hair (dark hair was dominant), and probably both had blue eyes (blue eyes were recessive). Well, except if Samuel was the child of another father, but that would be too obvious. His parents were rich, otherwise they couldn't have sent him to a school like this and pay for a suit like the one he was wearing. Nope, Samuel's parents were rich.

 

With this information Jim built a room with a window, from which you could see a blue sky just like Samuel's eyes. On an expensive and old desk, which was a metaphor for a conservative family, stood a few photos. They showed the different versions of the family: Blond wife, blond husband, both with dark hair, every time with blue eyes. When Jim turned around, he could see a dummy with Samuel’s suit. And in the middle of the room was a chest with a lock. He walked around it, memorized every hack and every defect in the wood.

 

It was the chest for Samuel's secrets, the ones he wanted to tell Jim and the ones he didn't want, but would one day. Precious little things and big scandals, everything would be in this room.

 

Jim smiled when he left the room to go back to the train. The ginger boy was talking to Samuel now. He asked how strict the teachers were, how the food was. Things ordinary people wanted to know. It was boring.

 

So he leaned back and watched out of the window. Trees, grassland, fields. Boring, boring, boring. Everything was so boring. How would he survive that for years? He thought about the track bed. Maybe it was a mistake not to have stepped forward.

 

They left the train in a little village called Ardagh. There a bus picked them up and after another hour they stopped at an old abbey, which wasn’t in use by monks anymore. It was rebuilt, so that a hundred spoilt boys could live and learn comfortably there.

 

No wonder that Jim's father wanted to send him there. He had just gotten out of the bus when a priest came and blessed him. It was a tall, slender man. He had a haggard face, looked older than he probably was. In fact he looked more like an evil wizard from a fairy tale than a priest, but he wore the robe, said the blessing and made a cross on Jim's forehead.

 

“Thank you, father,” Jim said quietly, because it was what he was supposed to say, but when he wanted to get past the man, he grabbed him by the wrist.

“Don't try anything, boy, I’m warning you,” he whispered. His voice was rough and cold and severe.

Jim frowned. “I don't want to do anything bad, father.”

“Yes, that is what they all say, isn't it?” The priest laughed, but let Jim go.

 

The boy looked confused back at him.


	9. Chapter 8: 12th June 1989, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Carl Powers." - "Sorry, who?" - "Carl Powers, John." - "What is it?" - "It's where I began."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still thanks to nitininha, who is still correcting it, without flipping a table, and of course thanks at the gang of the chatroom even they say they are crying because of me.

**Chapter 8: 12** **th** **June 1989, London, England, United Kingdom**

Jim looked at the bruises on his back in the mirror. Green, blue, purple and red. Carefully he touched one and jerked because it hurt. He clinched his teeth, so he wouldn't jerk again when he touched it again. The cane did his job very well, he thought, when he stroked about the colourful skin. Hate glanced in his black eyes, he could see it in the mirror.

 

Father Michael, the priest of his Catholic school, was more of a sadistic arsehole than a holy man. Jim couldn't do anything right since the day he'd arrived. The priest thought that Jim read too much and prayed too less, science was witchcraft and the theory of evolution was bullshit. Stupidity and fanaticism were a very dangerous mixture.

 

Well, the bruises were bad, but Father Michael could have punished him worse. He could have forbidden Jim to come to London with the others. Jim had joined the swimming team of the school in his second year and finally they had a contest in London. It was the first time Jim could leave Ireland and see something different than Dublin and his school. And it was great, even if they hadn't had the time to see the city yet. They, Jim and his classmates, Kevin (the ginger from the train), Maximilian, a tall boy, who was all brawn and no brain, and a few who weren't very important.

 

Well, Kevin was just important because his father worked with Jim's. _Work_ , Jim thought sarcastically. The truth was that James Moriarty senior spent the money of his rich family to plan terrorist attacks against England. Even it didn't change anything. Jim's father didn't let anyone argue with him; that was a problem. Jim wasn't ready to give up his heritage just because a few stupid adults thought it would be the right thing to unite the Republic of Ireland and North Ireland. Jim was very sure that would make it worse and not better, because the fight between the Protestants and Catholics would become worse than ever. His father wasn't the only one who wanted all Protestants to leave Ireland. Kevin had said the same and it was very clear that he had the idea of his own father.

 

Maximilian was necessary especially because he was all brawn and no brain. He was the perfect bodyguard and the only thing Jim had to do to keep him was doing his homework. A lot of the boys let him do their homework and every one of them owed him a favour. Unfortunately, the boys from the other schools didn't owe him anything.

 

Carl Powers poked him on one of the bruises very hard. Jim almost screamed. “Did you come to blows, Jimmy?” he laughed.

 

Unnecessary to say that Jim hated to be called Jimmy, not to mention to get touched without his permission (he didn't usually give it to anyone).

 

“Don't touch me, Powers,” Jim fizzed.

 

Powers was taller than him, brawnier, sporty, but also an arsehole who loved to boast. Jim remembered that he talked about his shoes, which were a limited-edition of Nike. He was so proud of them, he was proud because of a pair of shoes! But Jim hated more that Powers made jokes about his height and weight. Powers had called him weak and nothing was worse for Jim than to be called weak.

 

“Oh, what do you want to do, Jimmy-boy?”

 

Carl stood in front of Jim and straightened himself, so Jim had to look up to look at his face, but he did. His black eyes searched some weakness of Powers, but he didn't find any. He couldn't concentrate, because Powers grabbed him at the hip, exactly where the bruises began. Jim had to clinch his teeth again so he wouldn’t scream.

 

“Like I said, you are so weak, Jimmy!”

Someone harrumphed and Powers let Jim go. It was Maximilian, who was as tall as Powers and as strong as him. “Leave him alone, Powers,” he said slowly. Maximilian always talked slowly, maybe because his head didn't make the order fast enough.

“We were ready anyway, O'Kelly,” Powers snapped. His friends and he left the locker room of the swimming bath.

“Thank you, Max,” Jim managed to say breathlessly. His heart was bumping, his back hurt.

“No problem, boss.” That was a thing, which Jim really liked about Maximilian. He called him boss, even though Jim was weaker.

Jim sighed before he straightened himself. “Where is Kevin?” He hadn’t notice before that the last person of their trio wasn't here.

“He’ss in another lock room, was too ashamed to join us.” Oh, that was so characteristic of Kevin! Fortunately for Kevin, he was important.

 

They left the locker room to the pool. Carl and his friends were still in the water. Said one looked at Jim, who felt uncomfortable in his swim trousers because everyone could see the bruises. Everyone could see the weakness.

 

It made him sick. The tiles under his bare feet felt colder than they were and he shivered. His head felt dizzy and he wanted to destroy everything and everyone. He gazed at Carl, their glances met and then Jim had an idea.

 

A few weeks before Jim had killed a bird with a slingshot. After he'd anatomized it (all those little organs, it'd needed so much precision!) he'd put it in a box, he could have closed air tight. It was an experiment, because he'd read in a book that Clostridium botulinum could sprout in such an environment. Clostridium botulinum was very toxic, very, very dangerous, but for forensic doctors hard to find when they didn't search for it.

 

Jim smiled at Carl, who frowned. He thought Jim had planned something and in fact that was what Jim had done, but Powers thought about a schoolboy prank, nothing biggie, nothing that could cost his life. Oh, that was good, that was very, very good! The Irish boy had almost laughed, but he could refrain from laughing. Only his black eyes glanced in excitement.


	10. 16th June 1989, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stayin' alive is so boring, isn't it? Jim just accord a favour, isn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitinha and Jimmeh (who also helped to correct the first chapters and I'm just too lazy to correct that in the notes there) and of course the whole gang of the chat, although you are impatient as hell.

**Chapter 9: 16 th  June 1989, London, England, United Kingdom**

The bacilli moved, crawled. The microscope made it able for him to see them when he scratched them from the remains of the bird and put them in the eczema medicine next to him. He'd opened the window of the hotel room, so the room wouldn't smell so much like corpse, but it would be better if he let it opened the whole night. At 2:36 am he finished his work. He put the remains back in the box and closed the medicine and put it back in the bag in which Powers transported his whole sanitary articles.

 

Obviously, Jim was wearing gloves. The poison he was working with was acutely poisonous. It could kill him, if he wasn't careful, and death sounded exceptionally boring at the moment. Another positive side effect was that he avoided finger prints. Though he didn't believe that someone would find the poison in Powers body, prudence was the better part of valour.

 

He took off the gloves carefully, so he didn't touch the outside before he cast them away. The box with the remains was put back in the suitcase by him, before he went with the bag out of his room. Just the day before he had brought it Carl, who'd forgotten it because Harry, one of Jim's classmates, had distracted him. In the corridor Jim went to the room on his left, where Kevin was sleeping. Well, wasn't sleeping. Kevin thought Jim had put something harmless in the eczema medicine, something that would be a schoolboy prank. He didn’t have to know that this wasn't true to be Jim's accessory.

 

Kevin was better for this job than Maximilian, because Maximilian was too nice. He would tell someone. Though that would mean that he would be asked why he had helped Jim. His friend, instead... Jim sighed. The ginger would never ever tell anyone about the poisoned medicine, even though his conscience would kill him. Insecurity and fear of Jim would make him the perfect, voiceless accessory.

 

Jim knocked three times against the wooden door, just like they'd said. Kevin opened quickly. Under his eyes lay dark shadows (he didn't sleep very well in strange beds, just another reason why Jim had chosen him).

 

“Here,” Jim smiled while he was reaching the bag to Kevin, who nodded sleepily. “This will be lots of fun.” He was smiling, too, just tired, while Jim was feeling more awake than ever.

“Oh yes,” the black haired answered. “You have no idea how funny that will be.”

 

~Φ~

 

The whole room was blue, the tiles, the ceiling, the pool. Even Jim's fucking swimming trousers were blue. He sat on a bench at the edge of the pool. Slowly, he leaned back, his back touched the wall behind him, while he watched the scene in front of him. It was the contest for the ones who did the crawl. Fortunately, he wasn't one of them. Lazily, he looked at the clock. It should begin soon.

 

The swimmers were ready. They stood on the starting blocks. Someone changed the compact cassette from the stereo that the Londoner team brought there, so it wouldn’t be too boring for the waiting kids. The referee raised his hand. A popular song from the 70s was playing. Jim could almost feel the bass in his body.

 

_Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk,_   
_I'm a woman's man: no time to talk._   
_Music loud and women warm, I've been kicked around since I was born._   
_And now it's all right. It's OK. And you may look the other way._   
_We can try to understand the New York Times' effect on man._

 

Oh, that was so good. Jim licked his lips while he watched the other boys jumping into the water. A few crawls... Powers stopped. His muscles were shaking, he tried to call for help. His trainer shook his head. Did he think this was a stupid joke? Oh yeah, indeed. Some of the other boys, some from Carl's class joked that he wanted, that the others had a chance, too. Slowly, too slowly, the people around Jim understood that it wasn't a joke. Somebody screamed.

 

Though it was more amusing than shocking, Jim managed to get big eyes. If he didn't know how hard the life of an actor was, he would become one. Maybe. His own teacher recollected himself first, so he ran to the pool, jumped into it and swam to the drowning boy. The other swimmers swam at one place, totally shocked.

 

_Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me. Somebody help me, yeah._   
_Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me. Somebody help me, yeah._   
_Stayin' alive._

The teacher grabbed the poor boy and managed to pull him to the edge of the pool. Some people helped him to get the boy out of the water. One of the attendants rendered first aid, someone ran to the office. Probably to call the emergency, but Carl wasn't moving anymore.

 

Jim looked around and his eyes met Kevin's. The poor boy looked so pale, almost white in the unnatural light of the pool. How could Jim scare him more, so he would really not say anything? Ah yes, a smile.

 

_Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,_   
_you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive._   
_Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin',_   
_and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive._   
_Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive._   
  
_Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me. Somebody help me, yeah._   
_Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me, yeah. I'm stayin' alive._

 

~Φ~

 

“He is dead,” Kevin said. Everything in him was shaking: His legs, his hands, his voice.

“Obviously,” Jim answered bored.

 

He lay on his bed, looking at the ceiling, while Kevin sat on the only chair in the room. After the commotion (even in his last minutes Carl Powers had had the attention of everyone in the room) the pupils had been sent to their rooms. Of course Jim made sure that Kevin came with him, so they could talk about the situation. Well, Kevin could say anything he wanted and Jim himself would give the orders like ever. In the corner of his eye Jim saw how Kevin looked down at his hands.

 

“Was... was it an allergic shock of your prank?” Kevin asked quietly.

Jim couldn't refrain from laughing. “That was the prank, Kev. The best prank in all history and no one, no one would ever know! Well, except us, but you wouldn't say anything, would you?”

“I... but...!”  
“Kevin, it's as your fault as it's mine. You brought him his medicine.”

The other boy looked like he wanted to cry.

“Oh, please stop being so pathetic!” Jim shouted as he jumped from the bed.

 

He walked around the room, his steps were fast, strong. Kevin started to crying, he could hear him sobbing. _Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic!_ Stupid little Kevin! Necessary, important, little Kevin! Jim stopped when he turned around, grabbed his suitcase and opened it. A few seconds later he held the Nikes in front of Kevin's face. Just a little bit more threatening...

 

“They... they are...”

“Yes!” Jim broke in him harshly. “I killed Powers, Kevin. What d'you think, I will do with you if you tell anyone, what really happened?!”

Kevin's pale-blue eyes widened.

“Exactly,” answered Jim the unspoken answer.

 

The other boy became very, very quiet. He just watched Jim, who brought the shoes back to his suitcase.

 

“ _Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive._ ” Jim sang.

“Oh god, Jim, you are a monster.”  
Jim smiled at his friend. “No, not at all. I'm the devil and you will worship me.” He grabbed Kevin's tie.


	11. 17th June 1989, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little look on the future, a little hint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIke every time at this note: Thanks nitininha for correcting the text and thanks to the gang for loving this story and being so supportive and nice and being awesome. You all rock!

**Chapter 10: 17** **th** **June 1989, London, England, United Kingdom**

Jim's body was shaking, he tried everything to keep the sobs in him, but it didn't work, just didn't work.

 

“I-I'm so sorry, Detective Inspector,” he managed to say. Tears rolled over his cheeks, snot dropped from his nose. “C-Carl... he... he wasn't nice to me... I know... but... oh god, he is dead! He... we all thought he was joking. I... I didn't think it was real, something like that can't be real, can it?”  
The police man gave him a Kleenex. “It's okay, boy,” he said with sympathy in his voice, something he didn't feel, but he learned how to talk with people so they felt comfortable to tell him everything.

But Jim was no ordinary person, he never would be, so he played his little game. He took the Kleenex cleaned his face poorly and snorted. “Thanks. What... What happened, Sir? I... I just want to know.”  
“Cramps, we believe.”

 

The police man sighed. He wanted to calm Jim down, although he shouldn't tell him what killed Carl, because the investigations weren't over. Another reason why he explained that, was of course, that they didn't believe it was murder. It was just another tragedy in London.

 

Jim had bought a newspaper that morning and he wasn't surprised to read the case of Carl Powers there. He thought about cutting out the article so he could have it as a trophy, though he already had the shoes. But the newspaper was different, wasn't it? It was like they would honour him for being a genius.

 

“Can... Can I go now?” He asked carefully. It didn't seem that the Detective Inspector had more questions and the childish decoration of this interrogation room was annoying, so colourful and bright.

“Yes, of course, I’ll attend you to your teacher.”  
  


Jim nodded and got up with the Detective Inspector. They followed the corridor of New Scotland Yard, seeing a lot of the policeman’s colleagues, but Jim automatically stopped when he saw a boy in front of the office of the Detective Inspector. He was round about two years younger than Jim, his dark brown hair was a bunch of messed curls. It was obvious that he didn't wear an uniform of one the schools which were part of the swimming contest. Well, he was wearing no uniform, just a dark blue jumper, which underlined the pale-blue of his eyes, a shirt under the jumper and black trousers. He was pale like Jim and those eyes... They saw everything, while his brain processed the data so quickly that Jim one moment thought that this boy was like him.

 

“Sorry, sir, I read about the case Carl Powers in the newspaper and...”  
“I have no time, boy!” the Detective Inspector said harshly to the stranger.

“But... but the shoes!” the boy shouted as the policeman turned around to Jim.

 

Jim tilted his head. This boy... he had noticed it. He was good, oh, he was so good! The heart of the Irish boy skipped for a moment, not because he was afraid that someone would listen to this boy, but just...! It was almost as exciting as killing Powers. One moment he thought about going to this boy, talking with him, winning him for the evil, but then the boy shouted again:  
  
“Where are the shoes, did he eat them? We are talking about a murder probably!”

 

Jim looked at him, shocked. He was so, so clever, he was so good, but... was he on the side of the angels?


	12. September 1st 1989, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't change a few things, it doesn't matter how much you want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still thanks to nitininha and the gang of the chat, although they will plan my death after that.

**Chapter 11: September 1** **st** **1989, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

_Drip-Drip._

 

Sebastian leaned against the building of the children's home. Between his pointer and middle finger he held a cigarette, whose smoke rose. It floated in the air almost inextricably with the gray clouds in the background.

 

_Drip-Drip._

 

Sebastian's hoodie soaked in the rain, adhering damply to his skin. He shivered a little bit because of that, but he wasn't allowed to smoke, so he had to do it in the rain. The caregivers wouldn't search him at that moment, because something had happened in Germany, something about Ireland.

 

The children's home lay in his old neighborhood, so most people there had Irish roots like him. The caregivers and a few of the older kids had a few tough fights about the IRA. Some people would go back to Ireland if the whole conflict was solved (not that Sebastian thought that the conflict could be solved). Others said Ireland had to be united again and other-others said it was good like it was.

 

The boy himself wasn't interested in politics or in Ireland. He was born and raised in South Boston, he never knew something else. He hadn't even left the neighborhood once, but he wished he could. Especially at that moment.

 

His father was going to marry Sebastian's teacher from the elementary school. Allegedly he didn't drink anymore, but Sebastian didn't believe it. The worst in this whole situation was that Mrs. Smith wanted him back in the family, though she never liked him. The years with her weren't so bad like with his father, but she treated him like a criminal.

 

Well, that and his achievements in sport helped him to make friends, with them and the sport he stopped the stuttering and now he was a mediocre student. And now he should go back? Yes, it happened that he got punished from one of the caregivers there, but they didn't do it so often or so hard like his father did. His father. Sebastian closed his eyes. Never his dad, he never would be. There was too much hate between them.

 

“Are you alright?” Kevin, his roommate asked.

Sebastian didn't notice him. He took a drag from the cigarette before he answered: “Yes, I'm fine.”

Kevin leaned against the wall, next to him. “Can I have one?”  
“Sure.”  
One cigarette changed hands quickly. “Fire?”

The older boy lit the cigarette for Kevin.

“Thanks.”

 

Though Kevin was such a yes-person, he was still nice, and Sebastian felt he had a responsibility for the boy. They were round about 50 kids in the house for 10 caregivers, so the children had to look after each other. Mostly roommates had a responsibility for each other, just like Kevin and Sebastian, but most kids had more than one roommate, so a few looked for children in other rooms and when they went to a different school, because the roommates were younger, usually one of the older ones took care.

 

In Sebastian's case it had been a boy called Jack in his first year. Jack was in the third grade, a boy like Sebastian was. Sporty and strong. Sebastian accepted that Jack leaded, so they were a good team. With Kevin they had been three, did schoolboy pranks and started fights with other groups of kids. Very fast they had grown up to be the heroes of their school. In high school it was the same, especially because they were all part of the football team. Jack was their captain, but now Jack wasn't there. He did homework, so he didn't know yet that Sebastian would leave them.

 

Sebastian sighed and threw his cigarette on the ground. 

“Don't you wanna do something against it?” Kevin asked, his voice was louder than before. He was frustrated like Sebastian.

“What do you think I should do? The children's home doesn’t have enough money and one kid less would help, so do you really think I have a choice?!”

 

Sebastian had never shouted at Kevin, but he was so angry, so frustrated. He was even fucking scared! His father vowed he would kill him if Sebastian dared to come back, even after all these years, Sebastian hadn't forgotten it. His heart beat hard in his chest, for a moment he couldn't get any air. His hands were shaking and he wanted to destroy something!

 

Instead of that he punched the wall, over and over and over again, till his hands were bleeding and even that wasn't enough. He screamed, kicked the fucking wall, because the fucking wall wouldn't be hurt like Kevin, who tried to stop him, but Sebastian fought him with tooth and nail. His face was wet from the tears. _Breath_ , he told himself, but he couldn't, he just couldn't! And then Kevin's arms weren't there anymore. Instead of them longer, stronger arms grasped Sebastian round the waist. They pull him away from the wall, but he wasn't ready with it, so he fought, but the guy who held him, didn't let him go, he just... didn't let him go.

 

“It's okay, Sebby.”

Jack.

“I'm here.”  
 _But you wouldn't be THERE!_

“It's okay.”

 

Sebastian sobbed, grabbing Jack's wrists. The body behind him was so warm, so comforting. Kevin stood in front of Sebastian. His nose was bleeding, but he smiled. Stupid Kevin, stupid, stupid, stupid! It was the first time that Sebastian realized that those two boys weren't his friends, they were his brothers.

 

“I don't want to leave you,” he managed to say quietly, staring at Kevin's black eyes.

 

Jack hid his face on his neck, Sebastian could feel him shaking. He saw tears in Kevin's eyes. His heart broke, he hadn't wanted to make them sad or hurt them. Helpless, he got a tissue out of his trousers. He remembered this one time Kevin had been slapped. He had been... seven years old? And he had cried, oh god, how he had cried. Sebastian cleaned his face, tried to comfort him, although he was so bad in comforting.

 

With shaking hands he cleaned it then too, instead of the snot there was blood, but in fact it wasn't so different. Kevin let him, although he was now eleven years old. Sebastian just hoped he would live to see him becoming twelve and thirteen. He hoped to see Jack leaving the children's home, getting a job, a flat one day.


	13. December 31st 1989, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New year's eve in Boston, it could be worse and Sebastian is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs for correcting the text and to the gang who wasn't happy, because they had to wait.

**Chapter 12: December 31** **st** **1989, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

The cigarette glowed bright red, snow crunching under his sport shoes. It had just started on Christmas, the whole night and morning it had snowed. Boston had been covered in white. Till then it had only snowed a little bit every day, but now the public transport wasn't working anymore, so you had to walk if you wanted to go anywhere.

 

Sebastian had spent most of the holidays in the children's home, although he was living with his father again. His father... Augustus Moran had ripped all his jeans when he had asked for new ones - because they were too short- and for warmer clothes. His jacket was better for the spring or early fall, for winter it wasn't warm enough, because it wasn't lined. Anyway he was wearing it now, as he was going to the Carson beach.

 

He didn't need long to find the boy he was meeting there.

 

Kevin sat on the back of a bench looking at the sea in front of him. Sebastian noticed the cigarette in his hand, and rolled his eyes as he joined his friend. The younger boy looked up when he heard the snow crunching. He smiled, but after a few seconds he frowned.

 

Of course he noticed that Sebastian was limping, he wasn't stupid, well he was a little bit, but not that stupid.   
  
“What happened?,” he asked, after the older one struggled with getting on the bench, too.

Sebastian snipped his cigarette away, lit another and took a drag, smiling. “Nothing special, came late home last night, pa wasn't happy,” he answered, still smiling.  _When you are smiling the people aren't that worried_ , he told himself a dozen times.

“Why don't you do anything against it?”  
  


In fact Sebastian did and Kevin knew that.

 

The first few days with his father had been surprisingly normal. Mrs Smith had come around, had cooked for them. They had even prayed before they ate! Never before in his life had Sebastian prayed before the meals, but it had been kinda comfortable. Especially because Mrs Smith had been nicer than in school, not really nice, but just... she hadn't treated him like she hated him. But then she found the bottles. God, how she had screamed!  
  
She had come into Sebastian's room with a bottle of whiskey, shouting about how he had dared to bring alcohol into this flat. He had been too confused to answer, but then his father had come in, had taken the bottle. While they had been screaming and shouting at each other, Sebastian had been given the chance to flee and even after all those years he had taken it!

 

The neighbors would say later, that Mrs Smith had a broken nose, when she could finally leave the house. Blood had been all over her beautiful, white dress. Sebastian would come back after he knew his father had gone to bed.

 

Sebastian put the bottle of whiskey he had stolen from his father (he was very sure Augustus wouldn't even notice that it was gone, because he would be even more drunk this day than the rest of the year) between his legs on the bench. Curiously Kevin looked at it.

 

“Alcohol?”  
“Yeah, I want to forget the pain.” Sebastian grinned, Kevin shook his head.

“You are impossible!” The younger man punched Sebastian's shoulder softly, who grabbed him in a headlock.

 

After a while they fell down in the snow laughing. They writhed in the white, cold mess, even though Sebastian's hip hurt like hell. Sebastian pressed a hand of snow into the face of the younger boy, who screamed and did the same with him. It went on a while, till someone behind or in front or right or left or above them cleared his throat.

 

A little bit confused about the interruption, they stopped to look at the person who was standing there in the snow. Jack with his perfect, white teeth smiled down at them, shaking his head. Just like Kevin he wore a warm, lined, black jacket, around his neck he had a scarf and his jeans weren't ripped. When Sebastian saw him like that he remembered the cold again and started to shake.

 

Still shaking his head, Jack got a jacket outta the plastic bag he was holding.

 

“No, you didn't!” Sebastian screamed, jumping to his feet.

Kevin laughed like he had known it. Oh, oh these bastards!

“Of course we did.”  
  


While Kevin was still lying in the snow, Sebastian ran to Jack and hugged him as strongly as he could. After he finally let Jack go, the older boy helped him into his jacket, which was a little bit too big for him, but it was okay. After he closed it, he turned around to Kevin, who had gotten up now to hug him, too.

 

“God, I don't know whether I hate or love you guys,” Sebastian said, when they were all seated on the bench again.

 

~Φ~

 

They sat on the bench, watching the sky full of exploding firework. They drank whiskey for the first time and it was awful. It burned on Sebastian's tongue, in his throat and after two sips his head felt dizzy already. But it was a great evening anyway. They talked about their team, the next matches and the training. All the little things. The only thing embarrassing was Jack's talking about his other team mates like they were girls. Not that Sebastian and Kevin minded, but they were still talking about their team mates. Luckily, Jack changed the subject to the girls and boys of his class, which was much less embarrassing.


	14. March 13rd 1993, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a good start in the morning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks nitininha and brachiosaurs for correcting the text and thanks to the impatient gang.

**Chapter 13: March 13** **rd** **1993, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

“Sebby, you are lying on my pants!” Someone yelled jokingly.

“No, your pants are just lying under me,” he mumbled, although he knew his words weren't so harsh like they should be.

The someone laughed, before he sat down on Sebastian's legs and played drums with his butt. “Wakey, wakey, Sebby! Get up, I want my pants!”

“I can't get up when you are sitting on me, Jack!,” Sebastian growled, trying to get Jack away from him.

 

The older (and bigger and stronger) one just turned him around so they could see each other's faces. And that wasn't better. Jack grinned his flirting smile, pinned Sebastian's arms down at his wrists near the head of the younger boy. He leaned down towards his friend, so they could almost kiss each other.

 

“I'm not one of your bitches, Jack!”

“Oh, they aren't bitches! They are all nice gentlemen and ladies, and you should stop being rude about it! Just because you are jealous.”  
“Me?” Sebastian laughed. “I'm never jealous!”  
“Yes, you are, because I’m having sex and you aren't.”  
“I don't wanna have sex, you idiot!”  
“Yes, you want to, everyone does... well... except for Jenny. We need a word for persons like her!”

“You mean you do, so you can test before who is fuckable?!”

Jack winked at him, but he was still on him. “You are fuckable.”  
“I'm not interested!”  
“Still the thing with the priest?”

  
Sebastian shivered.

 

Since he had been back at his father's flat he had started to visit the church after school to avoid Augustus Moran. It had been warmer there than on the streets in winter and most of the time he could have been alone. After a while the father had spoken to him. Sebastian had recognised him from the religious lessons in school. The priest had also led Sebastian's confirmation. So Sebastian had talked with him. First about the weather, then about school and sports (never about his father, but he knew the priest had seen the bruises on his arms, the scars). One year ago now he had confessed, that he  _liked_ girls  _and_ boys, just like Jack. The priest had nodded understandingly and had invited him into his little flat next to the church (Sebastian had been so ashamed!).

 

Sebastian closed his eyes, he didn't want to think about the touches, about the kisses, before he had broken the contact and had left the flat. And even though Jack was a dumbass, who just thought about sex, Sebastian felt very protected in his arms, when the older one hugged him. The teen put his own arms around the waist of his friend, before he buried his face in his neck.

 

“It's okay, baby,” Jack said, comforting, while he was stroking Sebastian's shoulders.

Sebastian's voice sounded tired, when he answered: “Yeah, I know.”

 

Finally Jack got up and helped Sebastian on his own legs. The blond boy felt a little bit sick, but he tried to forget it. Together they went over the two mattresses, which lay in Jack's living room. Jack had had to move outta the children's home, when he had become 18. He had started to work at 16 besides going to school, so he could afford a flat. It also helped that he had gotten a scholarship for a college, because he had been good at football. Now he was in the team of his college, but the sport wasn't as important to him anymore. He wanted to become a teacher, maybe in sports and English. He was very good at both.

 

Although he had to study a lot (he was such a nerd), he let Sebastian sleep over, when the younger boy didn't know where else to go. After the priest-thing, like they all named the happening, he had stopped going to church to avoid his father, and sometimes he had been at the children's home in the afternoons, when they didn’t have training with the team, but it was much easier to be at Jack's especially, because Sebastian could sleep here. For that Jack had lent him money, which Sebastian had paid back with the pocket money he had gotten from auntie Katie. They didn't have a lot of contact anymore, because she was busy with her kids and Sebastian was with school and football, but once a month they met at a little sidewalk cafe, where Katie paid and gave him 100 Dollars for the month. It was embarrassing but he needed the money, especially for water and food and clothes.

 

They went to the kitchen, where Sebastian made toast and warmed up baked beans, while Jack was making coffee. Like every morning they worked in silence, till Jack asked:  
  
“What do you wanna do after school?”  
Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean?”  
Jack laughed. “You mean what I mean. You are a good football player, you should try to get a scholarship.”  
“I have no interest in colleges, Jack,” Sebastian snapped. In fact he knew exactly what he wanted to do, but Jack would be worried about this decision.

But Jack wasn't stupid and maybe the snapping wasn't a good idea. “Sebastian,” Jack said in his  _big-brother-voice_ . “Come on, tell me.”  
For a while Sebastian was quiet, he just stared into the pot of beans, but he knew he had to answer, so he did: “Kevin and I are planning to join the army.”

“What?!”  
“Oh, come on, Jack! Don't pretend you don't know, like we've never spoken about that!”

“Yeah, but I thought that was one of your childish ideas!”  
  


Sebastian clenched his jaw, looking away from Jack to the pot again. No, it wasn't one of his childish ideas. Though most of his energy went into training and matches with the football team, he knew that something in him came alive with violence, he needed it in his life. It was the only reason why he was still going to his father's flat, over and over and over again.

 

A few months ago the punishments had just stopped being punishments and had begun to be fights. Augustus had yelled at Sebastian because he had stolen whiskey again, Sebastian had needed it for an evening with Jack and Kevin. And that had been what he had told his father. His father punched him with a fist, but instead of begging that he should stop Sebastian had fought back. He had grabbed Augustus at the scruff, had given him a clout, which had hurt him as well, but he hadn't cared. The older man had pinned him against the next wall, and kicked him in the kidneys. It had hurt as hell, but Sebastian had been full of adrenalin, so he hadn't felt much. For a few minutes they had fought with tooth and nail, till they had separated. Breathless Sebastian had run outta the flat, happy and laughing! It had just been too good!

 

He clenched his fist now, because he didn't want to hurt Jack just because he was mad at him. Jack never understood, he was such a peaceful person, the sport was just a job, an exercise for him. The older guy had never compensated his anger, because he was never  _so_ angry!

 

“Sebastian, I'm worried about you. When I'm not around you are starting fights with everyone except Kevin. How often have I had to care about some very bad bruises of you? You will destroy yourself in the army!”

“And? Jack, why do you care?! You and Kevin are always like _Keep care, Sebby, don't get into a fight_! When will you finally stop caring about me?!”

“What do you think, Sebastian?! We'll never stop! Never ever, do you hear me?! I don't care, that you hate you to the core, that everything you do, you do to destroy yourself, I'll never stop caring about you, because I love you!”

For a moment Sebastian just stared at his friend, before he shook his head and turned around.

“Sebastian, what are you doin'?”

“Leaving,” was the only thing Sebastian said, before he went with big, fast steps through the flat.

 

His head was empty, his heart beating so hard. He wanted to scream, to destroy Jack, Kevin and the whole world. He had never asked to be loved, he had never wanted that and even now it wasn't anything he desired.


	15. 13rd July 1993, a mansion close to Dublin, Leinster, Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The network grows and grows...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs and the gang. I love you all, don't use it against me.

**Chapter 14: 13** **rd** **July 1993, a mansion close to Dublin, Leinster, Ireland**

Although the temperature was over 30 degrees in the shadow, James Moriarty junior was wearing a white shirt, black suit trousers and socks in the same colour. Dark, mirroring sunglasses sat on his nose. Though he looked totally relaxed on his deck-chair he knew exactly what was going on around him. 

 

Kevin was studying; Jim heard the scratching of a pen on paper. Maximilian was with his family in Germany, visiting some family members. Jim hadn't listened when Max had explained who and when and all those boring things, but Kevin would know if it became important. He always filled his head with those unnecessary things.

 

All three boys still were in a Catholic boy’s school, another one now for older pupils, but still. Kevin's and Jim's fathers had decided it was best not to separate the kids. Maximilian had been scared that he had to search for new friends (well,  _friends_ ), so he had begged his parents to bring him to the same school. Of course they had done it, they always wanted that  _everything_ was perfect for their little baby-boy. Well, they didn't know a lot about Maximilian. Just like Jim had hoped when he had been much younger, Maximilian had become a sporty bully under his hand. He was there for the dirty jobs, the ones who needed more brawl than brain. Kevin was used for the jobs that needed a person who was unimpressive or scared, and he was also very fast at writing things down with a good handwriting. He had started to become Jim's personal assistant, although Jim would like it more to have a prettier one. Kevin was still there to please Jim's father. 

 

Speaking of his father: One of the latter’s companions, friends, colleagues or whatever they called themselves opened the door to the garden. Since Jim had become 14 last October, his father had started getting him into the  _family business_ . Jim's mother hadn't protested, well... Why would she have? The summer Jim had been in London, she had found out that she was pregnant. It had been the reason to leave man and son, so the new child could grew up normal. Maybe it had been the right decision... Jim wasn't sure he would have let the child live, babies were so annoying, loud and dirty and they stank. No, it was really better, that his mother had left them, especially because now he didn’t have to bear her motherly love. 

 

But back to the companion of his father: He was a lot younger than most, 20 if Jim remembered correctly (he always remembered correctly). Just like Jim he had grown up with a father who had been in the IRA. Unfortunately he had been caught, but Jim's father was  _such a great man_ , he had helped the poor boy. The most interesting fact about Rhys was that he was gay, well, not openly of course. He gazed at men and boys much longer than necessary, especially at their butts. 

 

“Kevin, Rhys and I have something to talk about. Would it be bad if we leave you alone?”  


Of course Kevin shook his head. He was still happy when Jim left him alone. Rhys looked confused, but he followed when Jim gave him the sign. The property of the family Moriarty was big enough that you had to walk a few minutes until you reached a little cottage. It had been used as a home for the staff, before it had become too expensive. Nowadays the family Moriarty only had three people for the house, who came in once a week: a cook, a gardener and a butler. So there was no one at the cottage to see how Jim pinned Rhys against the wall.

 

“J-Jim?” the older one asked, stuttering. 

“Do you think I haven't notice how you look at me?” Jim whispered. He leaned forward, so his breath stroked the ear of the man, who started to shiver.

Rhys looked away. Shy, oh, that was cute wasn't it? “I-I d-don't k-know...”

“Stop stuttering!” The 14 year old ordered. 

“B-But...!”

 

Jim kissed him, pressing his whole body against the taller one. Rhys tried to push him away, but he gave up very fast – unsurprisingly. Shaking he lay his hands on Jim's shoulders. And he was trapped! 

 

Of course they weren't alone. Kevin had run another way, so he could hide in the bushes around the cottage. He waited just until Rhys returned the kiss, so it would be impossible to see who had started it. And then:  _Click_ ! Rhys winced and Jim was happy that he could stop kissing the man. He had tasted like onions. 

 

Smiling he turned to his pet Kevin. “Thank you, Darling,” he said, holding up a hand so that Kevin could put the camera in it. Of course Kevin did, Kevin wouldn't dare to make Jim angry, no one would. Not even Rhys.

“J-Jim?!” Said one asked with a shaking voice. Jim almost liked the shy Rhys better than the scared one, but only almost. 

Still smiling he glared at him, his gaze shifting from Rhys' blonde hair, to his pretty face (which was really pretty, boyish, but pretty), his shoulders and further down. “I think I should keep you as my pet, what do you think, Rhys?”

“W-what...” Jim raised a brow, because of the stuttering of Rhys. “What do you want?” asked the 20 year old man after a glare, a little more confident. 

 

Jim bit his lower lip, because in that moment he was very attracted to the man (although he wouldn't kiss him again before Rhys had brushed his teeth). Stronger, older, but soooo submissive. Yes, Jim liked this kind of power, he loved to break men like toys. It was almost as good as killing, almost. Both made him hard and now he had someone he could fuck... Well, he could have fucked Kevin, but that boy wasn't his type, too stupid, too weak. He watched the muscles moving under Rhys' shirt. 

 

“Listen, don't tell your father -”  
“I won't.” Jim interrupted him. “If you come into my room tonight.”  
  
God, he loved the look of surprise on his pretty face. The way his eyes widened, how the colour came back to his cheeks. He would have a lot of fun that night. 

 

“I'll give you exact instructions.”


	16. March 17th 1996, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saint Paddy's Day in South Boston, the day everyone is Irish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs to correct that and of course thanks the gang for being awesome and cute and for wanting to kill me. The song in this chapter is "Whiskey in the Jar", performed by a lots of persons.

**Chapter 15: March 17** **th** **1996, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

“ _Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da.  
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o.  
There's whiskey in the jar._ “

 

Kevin stood on the table in the corner, wearing a green hat like the ones leprechauns wore, and as he sang the Irish folksong  _Whiskey in the Jar_ the whole pub joined him. Laughing, Sebastian dipped his hand into a bowl of nuts, they were very salty and not very tasty, but it helped against the alcohol. A little bit at least, if he wouldn't wash them down with beer. 

 

Next to him at the bar sat Jack, who looked amused and worried at the same time. Of course they had made up after their fight, well, they were just ignoring the things Jack had said. Still. Their relationship wasn't the same anymore. Sebastian felt like he himself was separating them, but this evening he wanted to forget it.

 

It was his last weekend in Boston, before he would leave for the army next Tuesday. Normally he would have started on Monday, but it was Saint Patrick's Day and the army wasn't stupid enough to let a bunch of hangoverish, young boys start their training. So Sebastian could celebrate tonight. 

 

“He will fall,” Jack said.

“Na, even if. Enough people here who will catch him.”

 

It was true. The pub was full of Irish and non-Irish people and most stood around the table to sing with Kevin. The two older boys watched him. His head was red from the alcohol and effort and he looked so much younger than his 17 years at the moment. 

 

“You will miss him.”  
“No, I won't.”  
“Oh, you will, Sebby, and it's okay. We will miss you, too.”

Just for a second Sebastian looked into Jack's eyes, before he broke eye contact again. “No you won't, you will be happy that someone else has to care for me now.”  
“You know that's not true!” Jack grabbed his hand roughly, it almost hurt. 

 

Of course Sebastian knew that, of course he knew Jack would never stop caring about him. He looked down at their hands, Jack still holding his. But before he could do something stupid, they were interrupted by Jim. Jim was someone of their football team, well, was one of their team. Just like Sebastian he was 18 now, both had left school last summer. 

 

“Wow, you both look very sad,” he said, laughing. “It's fucking Saint Paddy's day, you shouldn't be sad! Whiskey for my friends, Stephan!” 

Stephan was the landlord of the pub, an elderly man with white hair, who didn't look all that much at the age of his guests. He poured whiskey in three glasses and gave it to the boys. “Here you go!” 

 

They raised their glasses to Saint Paddy and quickly drank the whiskey down. The alcohol was still burning in Sebastian's throat, but it wasn't that he didn't enjoy it. He loved the dizzy feeling in his head, the warmth in his stomach. 

 

Jim laughed, before he prodded them both in the shoulder. “Let's go get your baby down from that fucking table.”

Sebastian and Jack agreed. Meanwhile another person gave Kevin a shooter, who looked very drunk. 

 

 

“ _If anyone can aid me 't is my brother in the army._  
If I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney.  
And if he'll go with me, we'll go rovin' through Killkenny.  
And I'm sure he'll treat me better than my own a-sporting Jenny. ”

 

Sebastian laughed. “Yeah, your brother in the army is bringing you to bed now!”

“But -!” Kevin tried to protest, but Jack shook his head.

“You are drunk, Kevin, let's go home.”

“And the song is over,” Sebastian backed up his friend. 

The younger boy sulked, but he followed their orders. 

 

Although all three of them weren't very sober, they managed to get Kevin off the table without hurting themselves or anyone else. When he finally stood, Kevin grabbed the shoulders of his friends. Yeah, he was really drunk. Fortunately they had decided before that he would sleep at Jack's. They just had to bring him there... 

 

And it wasn't actually that easy. It was already hard enough to walk straight themselves, but Kevin made it worse. He used Sebastian and Jack for support and he wasn't the lightest. Thanks to the football team. So instead of a 10 or 15 minute walk they needed almost half an hour. And the whole time Kevin sang. Again  _Whiskey in the jar_ , followed by  _The Irish Rover_ and then from God knows where he came with  _Stayin' alive_ by the Bee Gees. Sebastian couldn't stop himself, he joined in on the singing and after a while Jack did, too, before they arrived at his flat. 

 

When they had brought Kevin (fully dressed) to the mattress, which was usually Sebastian's, they undressed themselves. Even that was hard, because Sebastian couldn't stand straight anymore. Jack helped him after he took off his own shirt, laughing. Kevin had fallen asleep as soon as he lay down on the mattress, so in fact they were all alone. 

 

“I wish you wouldn't leave,” Jack whispered, after they got Sebastian outta his shirt.

“I know,” Sebastian answered.

 

Sebastian had grown a lot in the last few years, so they were almost the same height. He just... he couldn't look Jack in the eyes, because he didn't want to see the sadness in them, so he closed his when Jack leaned forward to kiss him. It wasn't a good kiss - Sebastian had kissed a lot of people, so he knew - but in combination with the alcohol... At first the kiss had been shy, full of insecurity, but now he was pressing his lips harder against Jack's. He grabbed his shoulders, harder than he should, but Jack didn't seem to care. The older boy bit at Sebastian's lip, who growled in lust. They made their way to the other mattress, still kissing, and a few times they almost tripped over clothes and blankets, but in the end they succeeded in falling down on the mattress. Sebastian stood near the mattress, and he automatically grabbed Jack's shoulder when he felt that he was falling. The other boy couldn't stay standing up and landed on top of him. After a few seconds of being out of breath, because the collision had pushed all air outta their lungs, they started to laugh. 

 

“We shouldn't do this.” Sebastian said between two bursts of laughter.

Jack kissed him, short but hard. “No, we shouldn't.”

“It’s good that we are this stupid,” Sebastian answered, kissing back, all teeth and tongue. 

 

He dug his fingers into Jack's back, who winced, but didn't do anything against it, not even when Sebastian bit his neck. It was Sebastian’s first time and he made a fight out of the sex, because he knew how to fight, but not how to love. Sebastian felt a hand on his chest, one at his trousers, where... Oh god, yes! He felt it rubbing against his hard cock, even through the jeans. One of his own hands wandered from Jack's back to his chest. He touched a nipple, before he took it between two long fingers and squeezed. Jack looked at him. His pupils were wide, making his gray-blue eyes seem darker than they actually were. Both of them breathed heavily. 

 

“Continue.” Jack begged. His voice was shaking.

 

Sebastian did, he squeezed the nipple again, watching how Jack opened his mouth in a sigh. He looked so fucking beautiful in this moment. Sebastian’s other hand lay in the neck of the older man, so Sebastian could pull him down and kiss him again. Meanwhile his hand wandered from his chest over Jack's stomach to the waistband of his friend’s trousers. He unbuttoned them while he was biting Jack's lower lip. Jack was busy with Sebastian's and when he had finally unbuttoned it, Sebastian rolled them over, so the older one was lying underneath him. Finally they freed their cocks, rubbing them against each other while kissing, biting, scratching. Their groaning and Kevin's snoring filled the room. Jack bit Sebastian’s neck, who returned the favor at the shoulder of his friend. Their bodies rocked against each other, their dicks... Sebastian felt a heat inside him, hotter than before. It became harder to keep quiet. 

 

“Ha... ah... fuck...” he managed to say and then he came. His arms became weak and he couldn't hold his own weight, so he fell on top of Jack, everything wet and dirty and clammy. But neither of them got up to clean themselves. 


	17. March 18th 1996, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the walk of shame after Saint Paddy's day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs to correct the text (especially because I spammed them yesterday) and thanks to the gang of the

**Chapter 16: March 18** **th** **1996, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

“Seriously?! Seriously, guys?!”

 

Sebastian opened his eyes a little bit, the sun blinded him, so he closed them again while his mattress was moving. Wait... What?! A mattress couldn't move! 

 

“Sebastian, get off of me! You are fucking heavy.”  
  
More automatically than planned, Sebastian sat up next to the body he had laid on before. His head was heavy from the alcohol and Kevin's shouting didn't make it better... Ah... He opened his eyes carefully because of the light. Jack sat next to him. Jack. Jack. _Fucking hell_. Both of them were... more or less naked. Well, their pants were still around their legs. The sperm on their bellies dried during the night. It was disgusting. 

 

“I need a shower.” Sebastian mumbled because of that, ignoring the other two.

 

He trailed to the bathroom next to the living room while Kevin shouted how disgusting the whole thing was. To be honest, Sebastian wouldn't have been happier if he had found his two friends like this. Oh... he shouldn't think about this, never again, especially not when he had a hangover. 

 

It was cold in the bathroom. The window had stayed open the whole night, but the clear air was good. It made him feel less dizzy. Getting undressed, he threw his clothes on the little pile in the bathroom. He wouldn't need it in the army, would he? 

 

He stepped into the shower, turned on the very hot water. Unfortunately he couldn't stay long, Jack and Kevin would need hot water, too. So he washed away the sweat and the dirt of the day before, before he stepped out of the shower again. Sebastian covered himself with the towel before he grabbed his father’s old army sack. Since he had started to sleep at Jack's flat almost every night, he had packed his clean clothes in that sack. It was practical to bear that damn thing from flat to flat. On Wednesdays, when he got off earlier from school, because he didn’t have training, he had gone to the nearest laundromat with his own and Jack's clothes. Well, he couldn't do it anymore, could he? But maybe Kevin would help as long he was still in Boston. 

 

Sebastian got dressed. Black underwear and socks, dark jeans and jumper. Dark colors were unremarkable and he liked to be unremarkable, especially when he was going into a pub to start a fight. His hair was dark blond like the hair of every third bloke in North America and Europe, gray-blue eyes. Just his body... well... He wasn't stupid enough not to notice that the puberty did a good job with him. The strong jaw line looked even better with the 5 o'clock shadow in his face, with six feet he wasn't very tall, but small was something else, and he had the sporty body of a man who had trained years for a football team. 

 

He scratched a little scar on his chin as he stood in front of the mirror, checking himself. Sebastian had gotten the little white mark from a fight with his father. The fight had started when Sebastian had wanted to go to Jack one day. He had been at the stairs when Augustus had followed him. It had been about the sack. In fact Sebastian didn't remember a lot, because a fist of Augustus had met his face and he had fallen from the stairs. Fortunately a neighbor had called the emergency. Sebastian had told them, that he had slipped on the stairs, though the paramedics hadn't believed it. They had sutured his chin and the laceration on his forehead. Both wounds had left scars in his face. Both wounds had left scars on his face. 

 

Anyway he couldn't hide the whole day in the bathroom, could he? He had to go to his father, he didn’t even know why he wanted to say goodbye to that asshole. Maybe a last fight...

 

So he went out of the bathroom just to walk into Jack. The face of the older one was blank, what scared Sebastian more than seeing sadness and anger in the handsome face. 

 

“I'll bring you to the military base.” He said. Just the last month Jack got a car, because he was now delivery boy for pizza, besides walking to the college.

“No, it's okay, Jack.”  
The facial expression became a little bit softer. “I want to talk with you. No, Sebastian, don't look like that!”  
“I don't know what you mean, I'm looking like me.”  
“Sebastian, please, I know, who you are, how you are, do you really think I want to change it?”  
Just then Sebastian opened his mouth to answer something, but in this moment Kevin broke into them. “Sorry, guys, but I want to eat my breakfast without you fighting or anything else. So, Sebby, you come to the kitchen, Jack you are taking a shower.”  
Sebastian almost laughed. The little asshole Kevin ordered the big boys, although it wasn't in his nature. “Okay, okay, I'm coming,” he said laughing when he passed Jack. 

And even Jack smiled a little bit.

 

At the breakfast Kevin talked about the night before like the other two boys weren't there. Obviously he tried to keep the others from talking about the fuck and their relationship. It was okay for Sebastian, he wasn't a chatter at all, and even Jack relaxed more and more. 

 

After the breakfast he said goodbye, he wanted to be alone with his father. Later he would meet his boys in Jack's flat again. Kevin already said he didn't want to come with them to the military base because he wasn't good in saying goodbye. Sebastian didn't forget how the younger boy had cried when he had left the children's home to live again with his father. Of course Kevin hadn't done it in front of all people, but they had smoked behind the house with Jack and then... well... He had really cried a lot. 

 

Right after he had left the house, Sebastian lit himself a cigarette. The streets of South Boston were empty, just a few people took the walk of shame after the big Saint Paddy's Day party. In fact he didn't do something else. His stomach hurt when he thought about the night before, so he tried to forget that. 

 

~Φ~

 

“Sir.”  
  


Augustus Moran sat in the kitchen, pale and with dark shadows under his eyes from the night before. It made Sebastian feel better. 

 

“What do you want?” The old man asked, his voice scratchy like always when he had drunk too much and he always drank too much.

“I'm here to say goodbye.”  
“Oh, you found a flat? Or do you fuck with your gay friend now?”  
Sebastian blushed, but anyway he answered in a hard tone: “He isn't gay, he fucks everything!”  
“Oh, I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings, princess.” Augustus laughed. 

 

His son looked at his jaw line, his mouth... He looked very much like his father; he couldn't deny it, though he wanted to very much. 

 

“I'm going to the army.”  
“A pussy like you? In my time -!”

“Your time is over, old man.” Sebastian glared at him. “You are nothing more than an old alcoholic who his full of cruelty and memories of the fucking past!”

Wobbling, Augustus got up. “What?”

“You heard me, sir.”  
“Yeah, but -!”  
“I don't fucking care anymore, Augustus! I'm a full-grown man, I'm not scared of you anymore, I'll never be again.”  
  


The punch wasn't surprising, it was just an excuse to fight back. But it hurt anyway and it would probably cause a black eye. He would just say he received it in a fight in a pub at Saint Patrick's Day, it wouldn't surprise anyone in the army. 

 

Sebastian grabbed the scruff of his father while he struck out with his own arm. His fist met his father’s face, who winced and growled in pain. Again and again Sebastian punched that dumb face before he let Augustus fall on the ground.   
  
“I hate you! I hate you! I FUCKING HATE YOU!” He screamed while he was kicking the old man in the belly, against the chest. 

 

Of course he didn't kill him, but he did everything so that Augustus would be fucking hurt. Heavily breathing, he left the flat.

 

“Sebastian.”  
He turned around when he heard the female voice after he closed the door to the house. “Mrs. Smith.” He managed to say, still breathing too heavily. 

She looked very good, although her nose was a little bit askew. “I...”  
“Yeah, I know.” He broke in on her. 

 

He knew that she was sorry, though it didn't help at all. She had been blind, blind for Augustus motherfucking Moran. Blind maybe, because he was what her first husband could have become if he had come back alive to her after Vietnam. 

 

“But -!”  
“No, I don't want to hear it. You are sorry, but that doesn't mean I have to forgive you.”  
“Yeah, I think you are right.”  
“Good. I'm going now.”  
“To the army?”  
“You heard it?”  
“I met a few of your classmates last night.”  
“Oh.”  
“Be careful, yes?”

“I'll try my best, Ma'am.”  
“Thanks.”

 

And so he left her, too.

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian looked out of the window. The streets of his city passed him, streets he had never known, because he never left his neighborhood and he would possibly never see them . He hadn't thought he would be that sad, not just because he would leave his friends behind, he would just... miss the city. 

 

“I know that we can never have a relationship.” Jack said after a while.

Lazily, Sebastian turned his head to him. “Okay.”  
“I'm not even sure I really love you.”  
“Good.”  
“Yeah, maybe it is. Well, anyway I love you, I mean I love you like...”  
“Kevin?”  
“Yes.”  
“And you think I'm attractive.”  
“You think the same about me.” Jack laughed.

“True.”

“But we can't have a relationship, because you aren't capable of such things.”  
“Hm, so we are cool?”  
“We will always be cool.”  
Even Sebastian laughed now. 


	18. 6th January 1997, a mansion close to Dublin, Leinster, Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one likes blood on the throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs for correcting the text (still sorry for the spamming) and thanks to the gang and every other person who enjoys this story.

**Chapter 17: 6** **th** **January 1997, a mansion close to Dublin, Leinster, Ireland**

Jim watched himself in the mirror. The suit looked good, Westwood... Maybe he should have started to wear such fancy clothes earlier, not that the taste of his suits had been bad before. He had made a little bit (well, a little bit more) money because he had gotten his own drug labor last year, not that he officially had it, but he owned the owner more or less. 

 

“What do you think, Rhys?” He smiled at said one through the mirror.  
“You look good, boss.”  


Rhys was still undressed. Of course he hadn't gotten the permission to get dressed yet. Sometimes Jim forgot these unimportant details. Unfortunately.

 

“Get dressed, darling. My father expects us to come.”

“So, it's the big day, yes?” 

 

Rhys sounded nervous, of course he did! He was still thinking that he owed Jim's father something because he hadn't let Rhys and his mother down, although it had been the most logical decision. To be in contact with the son of a caught IRA-member. Pah! 

 

Jim tied his tie. “Yes, it is, Rhys. You won't let me down, will you?”  
“Of course not, sir.”  
“Good.”

 

Finally, Jim was ready. He checked one more time that the suit fitted perfectly before he went out of the room without looking at Rhys one more time. The older one would come later, so Jim's father wouldn't be mistrustful because they came together. Not that his opinion was important anymore. 

 

The last months Jim twisted more and more people, more and more of his father's people to be more explicit. Of course they were men who didn't betray their ideals (stupid people), so Jim had given the police a few tips. Anonymously, to be sure.

 

So when he entered the parlor of the Moriarty mansion dressed in his new suit just in from England (god, his father would hate this fact), most men in the room were his. Even Kevin's father. Ginger, just like his son. Cliche, cliche, cliche! 

 

“Father,” Jim greeted the man in the armchair. 

 

James Moriarty senior looked like a fucking king in that thing while everyone else was standing. He thought he still had control, Jim saw, and his father had possibly never been more wrong. This man was assured everyone in this room had the same moral standards like him, that everyone did for Ireland, but to be honest, everyone had their pressure points, family, friends, dark, dark secrets. 

 

James Moriarty senior looked at him and noticed the suit. “You could ask for a new suit, James.”

Jim hated it when his father called him James. He didn't feel like James, he felt very much like Jim and it would be okay if his father respected that. “Yeah, but I wanted to buy one with my own money. And... well, you know, this is a British one. You don't like the British ones because of your...  _moral standards_ .”

“What do you mean?” His father asked, frowning. “I thought you -!”  
“Oh, don't be so stupid.” Jim went to his father. “Don't be so obvious, so ordinary, you are so boring, _doofus_!”

“James.” His father used the warning tone now. “Not in front of my friends, behave!”  
“Well… about your friends. I'll tell you a little secret, okay, father? They are my friends now.”  


Rhys came in, a pistol in his hands. Jim put up his hand, so he could put the weapon on it.

 

“James, what are you planning?” His father’s voice got higher and he looked around himself. “What is with you? Why do you all play pillars of salt?!”

 

Jim controlled the pistol. Six shots, he pointed on his father and released the safety. Poor man, his brain didn't understand yet; he just sat there staring at his son. His son was a good shooter, maybe not as good as others in the room, but he shot his father between the eyes. He gave Rhys the weapon back while Kevin handed him a bowl with water. Jim washed his hands, with the towel he got from Kevin. 

 

“Can someone get rid of the corpse and clean the chair? I want to sit there.” Jim said, pointing on the body. 

 

Most men looked shocked at him (unlike Kevin and Rhys, they hadn't know what would happen), but a few of the older ones, the ones who served in the army, nodded. They took the corpse, bearing it out while Kevin washed the blood from the chair away.

 

“Thank you, darling.” Jim said with a smile before he sat down. “And now we'll talk about dealing with drugs, weapons and your little fight about the Brits.”


	19. September 11th 2001, Schweinfurt, Bavaria, Germany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9/11, the day, what changed everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see at the title, it's about 9/11 and from the view of Sebastian, so it's not that emotional. Thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs for correcting the text and the gang for loving the story.

**Chapter 18: September 11** **th** **2001, Schweinfurt, Bavaria, Germany**

Kevin looked nervously at Sebastian, whose face was blank and unreadable, which he was aware of even without a mirror . Sebastian was never a very emotional man, but in the years in the army it had gotten worse. Well, in fact it was necessary. His commander in the United States had seen very early how good Sebastian was, that he could lead, so he became a colonel very fast. He had learned a lot about strategies and history for that and for the first time in his life, learning had been fun. 

 

Anyway. Now he was worried. Every American soldier in Schweinfurt was in the common room to watch the news. Sebastian's jaw clenched when he saw the planes flying into the World Trade Center for the... fifth time? He wasn't sure anymore. His stomach turned upside down, because he knew, whoever did this would have to suffer. The Americans wouldn't accept and forgive that. In other words: They would start a war. 

 

Sebastian himself wasn't that worried, he waited for this opportunity for years, but he felt the fear of his fellow soldiers; he could taste it on his tongue. So he stood up, turned off the TV, though the others shouted at him for that. Sebastian raised the hands to calm them down, and though they were angry and sulking, they became quiet. He was a respected person there.

 

“Okay, okay, we all know what will happen. Whoever did that, we'll have to fight them and we will.”  
The others grumbled in agreement. 

The next words Sebastian spoke didn't mean anything for him, but he knew that most of his fellow soldiers were there because they believed in America and all their rights. “We will protect our people, our country!”

The grumbling became louder.

“No one has the right to attack us this way. No one has the right to kill our civilians, who we serve with our heart!”

Kevin looked at him. Excitement glanced in his eyes. “ _I am an American Soldier._

_I am a Warrior and a member of a team._

_I serve the people of the United States_

_and live the Army Values._ ” He spoke the Soldier's Creek. 

 

It was the first time Sebastian wished that Kevin had never joined the army. He didn't know where they would have to go, what would happen in the future, but he couldn't say that now. For his men he had to play their confident leader, he had to join in the Soldier's Creek. 

 

“ _I will always place the mission first._

_I will never accept defeat._

_I will never quit._

_I will never leave a fallen comrade._ ” He felt sickwhen he spoke the last words. 

 

“ _I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough,_

_trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills._

_I always maintain my arms, my equipment and myself._

_I am an expert and I am a professional._

_I stand ready to deploy, engage and destroy_

_the enemies of the United States of America_

_in close combat._

_I am a guardian of freedom_

_and the American way of life._

_I am an American Soldier._ ”

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian leaned back on his chair. His hands were shaking, but he had to make this call, he... oh God. What had he done? He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists . Fuck, it was like calling a mother or father or brother or sister to tell their stupid relative was stupid enough to shoot himself in the foot or the leg (what happened too often, by the way) with the difference that he called someone he was close to. Or had been close to. He didn't know anymore. 

 

Anyway he dialed the number. He didn't need the note with the number because he knew it too well. 

 

“ _Goddammit, Sebastian, what the fuck is happening?_ ” Jack said instead of a greeting.

“I don't know.” Sebastian answered honestly. It scared him more that Jack, who was usually very calm, screamed at him, than his thoughts before the call.

A few seconds he just heard Jack heavily breathing. “ _Send him back,_ ” Jack finally begged.

Sebastian closed his eyes. “I can't.”  
“ _Say he did something wrong, I wouldn't even care, if you have to discharge him, but -!_ ”

“He wouldn't accept it, Jack.”

“ _He is your responsibility now. And I swear to God, Sebastian -!_ ”  
“I know.” Sebastian couldn't help himself, he smiled weakly. “I'm sorry.”  
Jack sighed. “ _I know. Just... keep you two safe, yeah? I... I don't care about the others, I just want you both safe, okay?_ ”  
“Yeah, I know.” 

“ _So you won't do something stupid?_ ”

Sebastian laughed. “I can't, I have the responsibility, not just for Kev.”  
“ _Yeah, yeah, you are the big colonel now, aren't you?_ ”

“Seems so.”  
“ _Army suits you, I guess?_ ”

“Did you never see me in a uniform? I look gorgeous, believe me!”

 

So they joked a while, probably to comfort each other, to calm down, although they both knew this was just the beginning. 


	20. March 2nd 2002, Shah-i-Kot Valley, Paktia Province, Afghanistan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People die in wars, but not every time the people, who deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I really am. Still thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs and the gang of the chat. I'm sorry. Really.

**Chapter 19: March 2** **nd** **2002,** **Shah-i-Kot Valley, Paktia Province, Afghanistan**

“ _Two little boys had two little toys_  
Each had a wooden horse   
Gaily they played each summer's day   
Warriors both of course”

 

“I love your humor, Kev, but shut the fuck up!” Sebastian snapped.

 

It was hard enough to see whether someone was moving or not, even through the scope of his rifle. He didn't need distractions. Not in the moment, not in this fucking valley. Sebastian breathed heavily. Although he lay on the ground, his nerves were all on edges, sweat was running from his head to his back. Yes, it wasn't cold, but it wasn't very warm either, it was just... the situation. Not that he didn't enjoy it. He loved it. The adrenalin, the violence in the air... But still. 

 

Tarik next to him moved insecurity. The boy was 20 years old, maybe older, Afghan and their translator. He was nice and all that, but he was too wet behind his ears.

 

“Keep still!” Sebastian ordered him.

Black eyes looked sadly at him.

“He doesn't mean it like that.” Kevin tried to excuse him. He became _besties_ with Tarik in the last days after they had landed. 

“I meant it and now shut up. Both of you.”  
  


For a while it was quiet, Sebastian didn't hear shooting, no talking from other soldiers, and then finally! He aimed the Afghan, who came out of a hole, because he needed to pee or something, and shot him in the leg. His companions wanted to help (very stupid) and suddenly everywhere people were shooting. 

 

Shoot, engage the safety, load the weapon, release the safety, shoot. Sebastian was so concentrated on his job, that he didn't notice that something got the attention of Kevin and Tarik. 

 

Not till White behind him shouted: “Down, you stupid bastards! Down!”

Sebastian turned his face, watching Kevin and Tarik sneak to a child a few yards away from them. “DOWN!” He screamed automatically. 

 

He couldn't remember that he jumped on his feet, but now he stood. White screamed something, O'Kelly joined him, but Sebastian didn't hear them. His nerves were all on edges, he breathed heavily, sweat was running down his back. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. People shouted and people shot, people got shot and people died. 

 

Bang.

 

His shoulder hurt like hell, but he reached out to Kevin. Sebastian jumped his friend in the back, Tarik turned around, confused.

 

Bang-Bang.

 

Automatically, Sebastian put his arms in front of Kevin's face, so he couldn't see it, but Sebastian did.

 

Tarik's body jerked when the bullets struck him. His dark eyes widened in surprise. The kid a few yards away cried and screamed. Decoy, Sebastian thought, poor little thing, but he couldn't help. His shoulder... Tarik. Tarik opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. Maybe he did, maybe not. Sebastian couldn't remember much afterward 

 

~Φ~

 

He sat on a pallet. The doctor (he had forgotten his name) bandaged up his shoulder when Kevin came in. His face was pale, maybe paler than Sebastian's; He had cried, Sebastian saw it in his eyes, they were red and glanced wet.

 

“You know, what _down_ means, don't you?” 

 

Yes, Sebastian's tone was harsh, but he had to be harsh now. He had to be the commander, though he hadn't been that professional earlier this day. God, he hadn't been almost professional, he had let his emotions lead him, although it was the stupidest thing he had ever done!

 

“He's dead, Sebby.” The younger one managed to say. The tears glanced again in his eyes.

Sebastian looked away. “Yes, I know.”  
  
Tarik didn't survive. Three bullets, all in the chest, one struck the lung. Aside from that, he didn't have high priority. Of course he didn't have. A few soldiers were wounded that day, good American men, not that Sebastian thought he was better than one of the Afghan blokes, but he understood the concept of an army. Maybe better than Kevin. 

 

“Fuck, don't you feel anything?!” His friends shouted at him. 

The doctor raised a brow, but Sebastian told him it was okay with a wave of his hand; then he turned to Kevin again. “Calm down, goddammit! You weren't shot, were you?! No, you and your little friend thought it would be a good idea to go to the kid, who was obviously a decoy! And now one of you is dead and I'm hurt! They want to send us both back, Kevin, because you were that stupid! Are you satisfied now? Was that what you wanted?!” His shoulder hurt burning. “Oh, fuck you.” He shouted at the doctor who was still bandaging the wound. 

“Sebastian.” Kevin tried to calm him down. 

“It's Colonel Moran, now go to bed. We'll talk tomorrow.”

Kevin saluted, though he knew Sebastian didn't care about those things, before he turned around and left the medic tent. 

 

~Φ~

 

In the middle of the night, somebody touched Sebastian's shoulder. He woke with a startle. Automatically, he grabbed to his side where the person stood, who touched him, but he grabbed into the air.

 

“Sir, you have to come.”  
“What? What happened? Are we under attack?”  
“No... sir... It's...”  
“What is, Jones?!”  
“It's about Kevin, sir.”  
  
Sebastian got cold, but he stood up and dressed himself more or less before he followed Jones to the medic tent. But Kevin was nowhere to be seen, just the bags with the bodies, they couldn't get out there the day before. 

 

The doctor, what was his name? Harper, yeah, Doctor Harper, and another colonel and Jones were there and everybody looked so fucking sad. Well, of course a few people died that day... 

 

Sebastian looked at the bags around him. Suddenly it became very cold, he was shaking. That was a bad, bad joke. Kevin wanted to fool him, a little prank, yeah, nothing more, just a prank. 

  
“No, oh, fuck, please don't tell me that's true!”

 

Sebastian went wobbling to the bag on the pallet he sat earlier. There was more, more. One more bag for one more body. He gulped. 

  
“What...” He needed to concentrate to ask. “What... happened?”

“He shot himself, sir, in the head.” Someone answered, it didn't matter.

 

He opened the bag. Something warm and wet dropped over his face and he needed a few seconds to understand that it were tears. How long hadn't he cried? The last time had been... when he was a child, maybe two or three years old. 

 

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, before he started to sing with a shaking voice:  
  
“ _Do you think I would leave you dying_  
There's room on my horse for two   
Climb up here Joe, we'll soon by flying   
Back to the ranks so blue   
Can you feel Joe I'm all a tremble   
Perhaps it's the battle's noise   
But I think it's that I remember   
When we were two little boys.” 

 

He finished the song that Kevin had started a few hours ago.  _Two little boys_ who used to play with each other and years later they fought in a war together. Just like them. Sebastian stayed the whole night with his friend.


	21. March 16th 2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin is buried, but the life goes on and on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs (wherever she is at the moment), to the gang which hasn't kill me yet and all the other readers, I hope you all like it.

**Chapter 20: March 16** **th** **2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

Sebastian stared at the ceiling. He didn't sleep, of course he didn't. Since that night... 

 

He closed his eyes, trying to forget the hole in the head of his best friend. Jack was moving beside him, he was warm and alive and the whole room smelled like the sex they had had the night before. They buried their friend, of course they had had sex. Sebastian and Jack were the kind of people who went to funerals to get a fuckable person. It helped a lot to put the whole sadness into rough sex. Well, it helped them. 

 

Unfortunately sex didn't help against memories, not really. Sebastian laid an arm around Jack's waist, sadly smiling, because he remembered the last time they had had sex. Six years... Kevin woke them up because he was disgust by Sebastian's naked ass. Said one buried his face in Jack's neck now. He didn't cry, he hadn't cried again since the night Kev had died. Still he wanted to be with Jack, smelling him, tasting him, when his tongue slipped over his beautiful neck. Sweat, not dirty, dusty sweat like in Afghanistan. Just post-coitus sweat. 

 

Jack made a noise in agreement before he grabbed Sebastian's wrist to lead his hands between his legs. Sebastian wasn't surprised to feel a half erected penis there. He nibbled at his friend’s neck while Jack was moaning quietly. His other hand slighted under Jack's body so Sebastian could reach his chest in a more comfortable way. Of course he remembered how much Jack had liked it when he had touched his nipples six years ago, so Sebastian did it again. Between pointer and middle finger he squeezed the left nipple. Jack's moaning became louder, but although it was hot, it didn't have an effect on Sebastian. Maybe he was just too tired. Maybe he needed it harder. 

 

At the end he gave Jack a hand job, a good one, but nothing special. After that he grabbed the Kleenex on the bedside locker and cleaned his hand before he got up.

 

“Where are you going?” Jack asked still sleepily. It was six o'clock and the night yesterday had been long and tough.

“Take a walk.”  
“It's the middle of the night.”  
Sebastian laughed. “I'm a soldier, baby, for me it's not the middle of the night.”  
“You are awful.”  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
Sebastian got dressed: jeans, blue hoodie and a green vest. He put his Ipod in the bag of the vest and put the earphones in before he left Jack’s flat. Just out of the house he started the music. When he did sport in his free time, Sebastian always listened to music, mostly metal. System of a Down, Metallica, Sabaton, ACDC and a few other bands. 

 

On the streets of South Boson, there were just a few people who went to work and a few kids who went to schools in other neighborhoods, but nobody Sebastian knew or with whom he would talk at the moment. He ran to the Carson bay, where he made a little pause, before he went back to the city. He was more than an hour running when his stomach thought it would be time to eat something. Something which was very important in the army was to eat, so Sebastian didn't ignore the feeling. 

 

He went to a little cafe. Except from him just two other customers were in the cafe, an older man, who just bought a coffee to go to leave the cafe again and another man in Sebastian's age. He wore a fancy, dark blue suit, which fitted him very well and screamed _mafia_ . Sebastian wasn't stupid, he knew that the Russians South Boston liked more and more business were bought by them, but that didn't mean that Sebastian liked that way. Besides that, the man wore very dark sunglasses in a building. Douchebag. 

 

“привет.” He greeted the douchebag in Russian.

For a moment everything was quiet, but then the man looked up. “Sorry, did you mean me?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay, you know you just use привет in Russian when you greet a friend, don't you?” Oh, Sebastian knew it, what a douchebag! “But besides that: I'm Irish and I don't mean your American-Irish, I mean Irish Irish, born and raised close to Dublin actually.” The  _Irish_ douchebag took off the sunglasses, a pair dark brown, no, black eyes looked at Sebastian. 

They made Sebastian shiver.

The douchebag just smiled. “Hm, I like soldiers.”

 

Sebastian froze for a moment. The douchebag was flirting with him? Seriously? 

 

“Yeah, but I don't like bastards with ties.”  
“You could.”  
“Believe me, I couldn't.”

The strange man laughed, before he stood up. “We will see.”  
“No, we won't.”  
“I'm planning to see you again when you come back from Afghanistan.”  
  
Sebastian blinked. How could he possibly know that? He didn't even talk with Jack about his plans. Anyway, he couldn't resist to look at the ass of the douche after he had passed him. In that suit he looked really good, but... 

 

Still confused about what had just happened, he ordered a coffee and a panini. The shop assistant served him, but he looked frightened, so Sebastian asked:  
  
“Is he one of the Russians?”  
The man shook his head a little bit too heavily. “No, no, sir, he is... he looks at the soul of humans, sir.”  
“Like God?” Sebastian joked, but the man just got paler. It worried him.

“No, if you ask me, he has the eyes of the devil.”  
  
Oh yeah, these black things, not brown anymore, just black and this glance in them. Even Sebastian who saw a lot, couldn't deny that was a little bit scary, but to call them devilish? Wasn't that a little bit hard? Well, maybe it was because he talked with an Irish-catholic person, superstition wasn't that rare in South Boston. 

 

“And you don't know him?”  
“He came one or two times in the last week, but I'd never seen him before, wish I could avoid it for the rest of my life...”  
Sebastian nodded understandingly, although he didn't understand that. “Anyway, thanks.” So he said, before he left the cafe. 

 

He looked around, a little bit hopping he would see the man in the fancy suit again, but he didn't, of course. Sighing, he took a sip from the coffee before he bit in the panini.


	22. July 19th 2002, Bagram Air Base, Parwan, Afghanistan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every man can become a beast in war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and brachiosaurs, who is still missing, to the gang and to everyone else, who reads this story.

**Chapter 21: July 19** **th** **2002, Bagram Air Base, Parwan, Afghanistan**

“We have another.”   
“Put him in cell 278.” Sebastian answered automatically. “Can he speak English?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Good, I will take care of him.”  
The other soldier left him. Finally.

 

Since the morning Sebastian had heavy headaches. The pills he had gotten from this little British doctor, whose name he always forgot, hadn't worked, so he had to deal with the pain anyway. It made him angrier, not better. Since he was back in Afghanistan he couldn't hold himself; violence was the best therapy against grieving, violence and rough sex, but the last one was harder to get. 

 

Still it wasn't allowed to have homosexual sex in the American army and most of the soldiers were men, and the few women there thought he was disgusting, because he was so  _bestial_ . So he used the prisoners for his joy. The best was when they understood English, so he could explain them what he was going to do. He loved the fear in their eyes, he really did. 

 

But before he would work on the new guy, he went out and lit himself a cigarette.  


“These bloody things will kill you.”  
Sebastian smiled at the British doctor. He tried to look inconspicuously on the name tag. J. H. Watson. Ah yes, Captain Watson. Northumberland Fusiliers. “That's the destination, exactly.”  
The little man frowned. “Most smokers don't wanna die.”  
“I'm not most, Captain Watson.”  
He hummed in agreement. “That could be true.” Anyway, he smiled at Sebastian, the friendly smile of a man who is there because he believed in the job. Sebastian's stomach turned upside down. “How are the headaches?”  
“The hell.”  
“The pills didn't help?”  
“Nope.” Sebastian threw the half smoked cigarette on the ground. “I have to go now, Doctor. See ya.”

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian watched the Afghan man, whose hands were chained to the ceiling, so he had to stand. Black eyes looked back, black eyes, but not like the ones of the Irish man in Boston. He had never seen eyes like that before and after he had met this guy and now, months later, miles and miles far away from that, Sebastian wished he had reacted differently.

 

Sometimes in the cold nights in Afghanistan Sebastian remembered those eyes when he masturbated, though he said he never would like a bastard like this... Maybe his mind vanished everything and he mixed things up and so he ended with a hand on his cocks thinking about a fucking city slicker. 

 

He shouldn't think about it, not at the moment. He lit another cigarette and the noise echoed in the ex-hangars in which the cells were then. The Afghan man still looked at him, maybe he also wanted a cigarette. Sebastian pulled off his package.

 

“Do you want one?”  
“It's... not _halal_.” The Afghan said in a broken English. 

“Ah, yes, I always forget that you are such poor bastards!”  
“No bastards, religious men.”  
“Religion shouldn't be about destruction, don't you think?” Sebastian took a drag of his cigarette before he went to the other man. He smelled like sweat even worse than Sebastian. 

“Just defence, we just defence us.”  
“It's defend, stupid bastard.” His old man showed Sebastian how to hurt a man and just like Augustus Moran he stubbed out on the skin of the Afghan man. 

He winced and whined. “Please, stop, please.”  
  


But Sebastian didn't stop. He thought about Tarik and Kevin and the unnamed child that the fucking Taliban used as a fucking decoy. The anger burnt him, inside it burnt his heart and everything he was before Afghanistan. Sometimes he couldn't even remember Kevin's or Jack's face; sometimes he couldn't feel joy, just this anger. 

 

People like Watson could go back home, they could be normal again, but not Sebastian. He was a soldier, a fighter, everything in him wanted to destroy and burn and kill. He broke the Afghan man’s finger, finger by finger, then the other hand. The cries and the screams echoed from the ceiling and walls around them, and everything was sooooo good for a few hours. 

 

When he was ready for the day he called a few paramedics, the ones of the U.S. Army, because he didn't trust the Brits or the few soldiers from other countries. They just didn't understand that they were in war and war meant to torture and to kill.

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian became very fast very hard that night. He imagined the suit wearing douchebag in the chains which tied the Afghan man and just like this prisoner, the douchebag was naked. In his imagination, Sebastian touched the pale skin at the waist carefully, just so the other man felt the touch. The douchebag tried to fight against the chains, but  _of course_ it didn't work. As a punishment, Sebastian bit him in the neck and the growl he got for that was almost inhuman.  _Oh, fuck it_ , he thought when he came because he just imagined that sound. 

 

Then he lay there, staring at the ceiling. He was so fucking tired, but he couldn't sleep, he just couldn't. Automatically he touched his tattoo on his flank, Jack and Kevin had a similar one... well not exactly the same. Sebastian had gotten a tiger of course. Jack because he was such a family guy had gotten a lion and the youngest and smallest of them a leopard. 

 

Sebastian closed his eyes, trying to breathe normally. 


	23. October 11th 2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just back from Afghanistan Sebastian is in trouble again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha for the correction and to the gang, because I'm still alive, so you haven't killed me yet and to all the other readers.

**Chapter 22: October 11** **th** **2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

His vision was blurred already. A guy next to him talked to him, but he just nodded and didn't listen to him, not that he would listen if he were sober, but the alcohol just made it worse. In fact he couldn't even hear what the guy said. The pub was completely overcrowded, crowds of people tried to get to the bar. It was loud and hot and stuffy, like the party rooms in Afghanistan. Sebastian had had luck, he had come early, so the pub had been almost empty and now he had a great seat at the bar. But now...

 

Sebastian's left flank started to tickle. Automatically he put his hand on the bandage there; he winced because it still hurt. Fucking Taliban. Fucking Kalashnikov of the fucking Russians. A man, with a body stronger than Sebastian’s, but Sebastian was sure he was never trained in close combat, so he would win a fight, squeezed his way through the people to the bar. Of course he had to touch Sebastian's wound. The soldier winced and almost shouted at the guy, who looked strange at him.

 

But then he felt it. Something very hard jabbed into his back, something that felt like a gun. A hand grabbed his flank, exactly on his bandage. Sebastian snarled while he was trying to breath. Carefully, he looked to the left and to the right, but nobody seemed to notice that something wrong was happening. He remembered his training, follow the orders if you get under threat, as long as you don't have to betray the United States, not that he gave a fuck about the army. If it saved his life, he would tell anyone everything and would do almost everything. He wasn't ready for hell after all.

 

“Don't do anything stupid.” Someone behind him said.

 

It was a man, almost as tall as Sebastian, Russian accent, if he wasn't wrong. Whatever the Russians wanted from Sebastian.

 

“Sir, I have to inform you that I'm a member of the army of the United States of America.”  
“No, you aren't anymore.” The other man said.

Sebastian froze.

 

How could this fucking Russian possibly know that? Sebastian was back since this Monday and the only thing he had done till then was sleeping and going to pubs to drink. He didn't even call Jack or talked with someone else. So no one knew except the guys from the army, but Sebastian was very sure the Russian behind him wasn't from the army.

 

“Follow me and make no mistakes. I think your situation is quite clear to you.”  
“Sure, sir.” Sebastian answered, though it made him almost throw up.

 

That was one thing in the army that he had really hated, this whole _yes, sir_ and _no, sir_. It had always reminded him of his father.

 

“Good. Now come.”

 

The gun vanished, thank God, so Sebastian turned around. The Russian, it was obvious that it had to be this tall guy, was a mountain of a man. He winked Sebastian to follow and Sebastian wasn't stupid enough not to follow the order. They made their way between the people though it wasn't easy. Someone there should engage a bouncer. Maybe a bouncer had found the gun, too...

 

Anyway, at the end they left the pub. The street was almost empty, just a few couples, a few drunken teenagers.

 

Sebastian thought about starting a fight with the Russian guy, but he was almost sure he had combat training unlike the asshole in the bar. And a gun. Nothing Sebastian should joke about, especially not in his condition. He touched the wound under his jacket when he noticed a car that came to them. It was a black BMW with darkened windows.

 

The Russian nodded in the direction of the car, which stopped at the curb in front of him. He opened the door in the back and said: “In.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sebastian followed the order. Of course he did. He didn't want to die. Not today.

 

He just had the head in the car when he wished he had made another decision. On the other side sat the douchebag in another fancy suit. He didn't even look up from his phone when Sebastian sat down next to him. The Russian closed the door behind him and the car started to drive. Sebastian looked at the black window, behind which the driver would sit. _Toxic_ by Britney Spears was played by the loud speakers.

 

“ _There’s no escape._  
 _I can’t wait._  
 _I need a hit._  
 _Baby, give me it._  
 _You’re dangerous._  
 _I’m loving it._ ”

 

Sebastian cleared his throat, but the douchebag still didn't look up, so he said: “привет.” Of course he knew he should be more careful, but something in him just didn't get it.

Well, finally he got a reaction. “I'm still not your friend, Sebastian Moran.”  
The ex soldier frowned, when the other man mentioned his name. “So you know who I am, can I know who you are as well?”

 

Black eyes glared at him, they made him shiver again and he remembered the dreams he had had in Afghanistan. Anyway he didn't get an answer. They made him feel like the little boy he was in the eyes of his father and at the same time he felt like someone saw his potential.

 

“ _It’s getting late to give you up._  
 _I took a sip from a devil’s cup._  
 _Slowly, it’s taking over me._ ”

 

The silence made Sebastian forget the rest of his soldier instincts. “Okay, you don't wanna talk with me. That's cool. But let me say that you have a terrible taste in music, and the guy who got me, was all brawn and no brain and I can't imagine what relationship he and you have, but really you should get someone cleverer.”

The douchebag laughed. “Cleverer? Do you mean yourself, darling? Because you don't act clever at the moment. And I read so much better about you.” He threw a file with documents on the seat between them.

 

Sebastian didn’t have to read it, but he took the file anyway. He opened it and wasn't surprised to see a photo of himself in it. It was the file the army had created for him.

 

“Okay, what do you want?” He asked, his voice scratchy from the emotions he suddenly got.

“I have a job for you, if you make it right, you won't need to worry ever again.”  
“If not?”  
The douchebag smiled. “If not, I'll kill you and feed the fishes with your body.”


	24. October 12th 2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the douchebag isn't just a douchebag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and the gang of the chat and all people, who are reading this story.

**Chapter 23: October 12** **th** **2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

Sebastian woke up in a foreign bed. Just for a moment he was drifting, he forgot where he was, but then the memories came back like a punch. He groaned while he hid his face in his hands. This man... This douchebag... He had kidnapped him and Sebastian had acted like a schoolboy and not like the ex-soldier he was. Fucking shit!  


And still... He enjoyed how his heart was bumping against his ribs, how his breath got more heavy, more controlled. Of course he had had good reasons to be in the army, even after Kevin's death. It wasn't just revenge, well, if it was revenge at all. It was the power he had on other humans, on their lives especially, when he had a rifle in his hand. Also he loved the fact he could die any minute, he was never safe. Of course he had been safe, but when they had been outside of the base... 

 

Now it was the same. He wasn't sure he would live at the end of this day, even if he didn't make a mistake on this job the douchebag wanted to give him. The douchebag, whose name he still didn't know. 

 

Slowly he sat up. A look on the clock showed him it was 5 o'clock am. The army did a good job in training him to wake up at the best time, he thought, as he pulled the blanket away.

 

Someone cleared his throat.

 

Sebastian froze for a moment, two, before he turned around. In a chair behind him at his bed sat the douchebag. How could he...? Usually Sebastian woke up from the quietest noise (a reflex he had needed in his childhood  _and_ in the army). 

 

“Did you put something in my drink?” He asked automatically, because he didn't have a better excuse to be so careless. 

Even in the dim light he could see that the douchebag was smiling. “No, not at all. I just know how to sneak around.”

Sebastian stood up, ignoring the fact that he was naked and that the douchebag could see the bandage on his flank. 

“You should change the bandage.” The voice of the douchebag sounded bored.

“Yeah, I know,” Sebastian snapped. Unfortunately he didn’t have anything to change here.

 

Now the douchebag stood up, too. Sebastian was a head taller than him, so he had to be between 5,65 and 5,70 feet tall. His suit fitted too good to hide a gun under it, he had a slender physique and looked more like a thinker than a fighter. Anyway Sebastian didn't attack him. Something in the very quiet (really, it was no wonder that he hadn't woken up) movements when the douchebag went to the door distracted him from attacking. 

 

At the door the douchebag turned on the light. Sebastian blinked a moment, because it was very bright, but the douchebag didn't seem to be affected. Was he ever affected by anything? Slowly and still quietly the man in the suit walked to Sebastian’s night table. He passed the ex-soldier, who felt suddenly a hand on the bandage, so carefully that it didn't really hurt, but he could feel it. A small grin flitted about the face of the douchebag. He almost looked like a boy with that, although he had to be in Sebastian's age, maybe one or two years older or younger. But then the moment was over, and the douchebag stood in front of Sebastian's night table. 

 

Only now Sebastian noticed the little first aid kit. He froze again, because he saw how near the douchebag had come without Sebastian noticing him while he was asleep. It made him more uncomfortable, but in the same time he was curious. Who was this guy? Why did a Russian guy kidnap Sebastian for him?

 

“Sit down.” The douchebag ordered and something in his voice reminded Sebastian of the army.

Automatically he followed the order.

“Good boy.” 

Sebastian swallowed, but the other man didn't seem to notice it.

 

The smaller guy fetched a small scissor out of the kit, the kind of scissor you cut bandages with.

 

“Do you want to make it alone?” Sebastian asked, he couldn't hide the worries in his voice.

“Believe me, I'm better in first aid than you think.” The douchebag smiled again, something between flirting and arrogance. 

And still Sebastian let him do.

 

The man cut the bandage on his shoulder, around his belly, before he removed it with careful movements. When he had done it, his gaze kept a moment too long on Sebastian chest; especially on the tattoo on his right flank (he was still happy the bullet hit his other side because of it). 

 

The douchebag licked his lips. “Hmmm, a tiger, aren't you?”

Sebastian looked straight in his eyes, even he felt uncomfortable with that. “You read my file.”  
The other guy laughed. “Oh, yes, I did. I love the codename. I think I should keep it, if you are alive at the end of the day.”

“I'll try my best.”  
“I hope so. It would be a waste of such a great body, wouldn't it?” Meanwhile he had put out an antiseptic, put it on a sterile gauze pad before he pressed it on Sebastian wound.

The ex-soldier exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I think so, too.” He managed to say, though it felt like someone burnt his flank. 

“Press it on the wound,” the douchebag ordered him again, pointing at the gauze pad. 

 

And so Sebastian did, while the smaller man bandaged his body. He was very careful, just now and then he touched the wound under the gauze pad and Sebastian wasn't sure whether these touches were accidental or on purpose. The douchebag didn't seem to be a man who did things  _accidentally_ , so either he liked to make Sebastian wince because of the pain or he just knew how to act like it was on purpose. 

 

“Who are you?” Sebastian asked, after a few minutes in silence.

“You can call me sir.”  
“I won't and you know that.”  
“Oh, you will.” The douchebag smiled again, now something evil lay in his smile.

 

Sebastian frowned, but then the moment was over. The douchebag was ready with his bandage and it was surprisingly good. The ex-soldier moved his shoulder carefully, scared he couldn't move it right, but it was really okay. Smiling, the douchebag stepped back, then he turned to the right and went to the door. Sebastian noticed the black bag there, big enough for a rifle. His fists clenched as he imagined how he’d hold one. 

 

“Though I like your body, you can dress now, tiger.” The other man said as he threw the bag on the bed. 

He stood next to Sebastian, who looked at him, trying to figure out what he should do for this job.

“Didn't you listen to me? Get dressed then we'll talk about your job.”  


It repelled Sebastian that he act like a lap cat, but he couldn't help himself. He went to the bathroom to get dressed, noticing the look of the douchebag on his ass when he walked.


	25. 12th October 2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian becomes a hired gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and the rest of the gang, to all the readers and... yeah, to all people, who exist or not, wait what?

**Chapter 24: 12** **th** **October 2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

Jim couldn't deny that he was attracted to this fellow ex-soldier. But to be fair, he was a pretty guy, this jawline and muscles and those scars! Not to mention his butt... 

 

Jim licked his lips as he opened the bag with the rifle. He hadn't even seen him in action yet, but he was very sure, if he were alive after this day, they would fuck the whole night. Only the imagination made Jim hard, though he was still the professional. First the job, then the fun, right? He put his suit straight when Sebastian left the bathroom fully dressed in the black clothes, Jim put there for him. Everything fitted perfectly, Jim never made mistakes in sizes.

 

“So, can we talk about your job now?”  
The lips of the ex-soldier became a straight line. “I don't think I have something to say about it.”  
Jim laughed. “No, you don’t, do you? Clever boy.” He watched Moran going to the bed, watched how his eyes widened when he saw the rifle. “Do you think you can handle this exemplar?”  
  
Of course he could, it was a M24. It was usually used in the U.S. Army, but besides that it was exactly the same rifle Moran had used in Afghanistan. Automatically the ex-soldier grabbed it. With trained movements he checked the state of the rifle, the bullets (of course the magazine was full). At last he checked the ID number. His eyes widened again.

 

“This is mine.”  
“Of course it is. I thought it would be best to give you a rifle you know.”

“For what?” Ah, the sceptic tone Jim had expected.

“Nothing biggie, nothing you hadn't already done in the army.”  
“You want me to kill someone.”  
“Like I said: Clever boy.”  


The face of the ex-soldier was unreadable, but he straightened himself. His fists clenched again, Jim had seen this reaction, when he had gotten the bag.

 

“I could kill you now.”  
“Yeah, but that wouldn't be fun, would it?”  
“I shall kill a human.”  
“Yes.”  
“That isn't fun.”  
Jim laughed about the lie. Softly he grabbed Moran’s wrist, checking his pulse. “Repeat that.”  


The pupils were still widened, the pulse rushed against Jim's fingers. Hm, he had a very interesting effect on this guy. And how cute! He couldn't even look Jim in the eyes when he lied again:  
  
“It's not fun to kill people.”  
Jim grabbed his chin hardly and he didn't fight back, just looking into his eyes like the tiger he was. “Repeat.”

He didn't answer.

Jim laid his hand on the wound, grabbed around his flank hardly. “Repeat.”  
Moran exhaled, but it was the only sign he felt pain. Anyway he opened the mouth again. “Okay, it's fun to kill people. Satisfied?”  
“Yes,” Jim answered and let him go. “For now.”

“Thank you.” The tiger snapped. For a moment Jim wanted to take him right there, but the business...

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian tried to forget the camera on his back, through which the douchebag (he still didn't know his name) watched him. It gave the whole thing another kick, not that he hadn't been watched in the army, but usually his commanders had been with him or he had been in a bigger team. This here was perfectly planned, but it still thrilled him out. 

 

He was in an empty flat, well, no one lived there, although every room had modern furniture and it got cleaned once a week, but everything else... No, nobody lived there. In front of the window, from where he had to shoot, he saw another building, both were skyscrapers, perfect for snipers like him. In a window a few levels under him, he saw a couple fucking on a desk. Probably an office affair. Directly above them was a meeting, and there was his victim. 

 

After he opened the window, he assembled his rifle so he could shoot from it. From the earphone he had in the left ear, he could hear the douchebag humming a song Sebastian knew, but he couldn't remember which one it was. It was definitely not a song he usually would listen to, sounded too funny for his ears. 

 

He got close to his rifle, pressed the weapon into his shoulder and exhaled . 

“ _Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive._ ” The douchebag sang now.  
“You are a real bastard, aren't you?” Sebastian asked, but he was smiling. 

The other man laughed. “I hear that now and then. Any plans for tonight?”  
“Well, not to be killed would be nice.”  
“Oh yeah, I can understand that worry.” It didn't sound like that. “Are you enjoying it?”  
“Can I lie?”  
“No.”  
“Okay. I'm enjoying it.”  
“Good, good, boring work is so stupid, isn't it?” A short pause. “Oh, here you go. The fatty who just came in.” He sounded excited.

Sebastian smiled a little bit while he looked in his scope. 

 

Right, a fat man had just entered the room. The other ones seemed to have a lot of respect for him, but Sebastian didn't care about it, he didn't know, who these people were, he just knew he should kill them all. So he exhaled again before he shot the fatty, bang, strike in the head. Shot, killed, shot, killed, shot, killed and shot killed and all the time the douchebag sang fucking  _Stayin' alive_ in Sebastian's ear. He was too fast, so the guys he shot didn't even get the chance to understand what was going on. Still, he hoped he wouldn't have the douchebag in his ear on other jobs. Yes, Sebastian had fun and he wouldn't mind if he got other jobs like this. 

 

“Do you have any plans for tonight, tiger?” The douchebag asked, while Sebastian disabled his rifle.

“Well, a fucking weirdo've kidnapped me, so I kill a few people for him, dunno what he wanna make me do now.”  
The man in his ear laughed. “We could talk about business and...” Again a short moment of silence. “...something else.”  
“Is that a promise?” Sebastian joked.  
“Oh yes, tiger, it is.”

 

Either Sebastian had become mental or he was just stupid. Anyway he was looking forward to this night.


	26. October 12th 2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian have never had a date before, but he imagines, that it would be like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha and the gang, who deals with my "oh god, that is so hard to write".

**Chapter 25: October 12** **th** **2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

When Sebastian left the building with his rifle in his hand in the bag, he felt alive. In front of the multi-storey building next to the one he just left, a few police cars stood, but no one seemed to watch the six feet tall man in the dark clothes and the bag in the hand. 

 

A sedan stopped at the curb in front of him, the driver got out, went around the car and opened the door to the rear. Sebastian went nearer, not sure it was the car for him because the douchebag had come yesterday with the black BMW, with which they had driven to this building today, too. This here... Was that really his style? Sebastian thought about the expensive suit and the fancy hotel he had slept this night. Maybe. 

 

Still. He wasn't convinced. Not eveb, when the driver, a ginger with freckles on his cheeks and nose, but not one of the cute kind, looked with his pale-blue eyes at him.

 

“Sir, Mr. Moriarty is expecting you.”

 

Moriarty. That was Irish, but Sebastian wasn't sure at all that the douchebag didn't lie about his roots. His accent could also be from a Londoner or could be acquired, after what Sebastian had seen, everything could be true. 

 

“Didn't I tell you he would be more careful?” A bored voice came out from the car; it was obviously the voice of the douchebag. _Moriarty_ , Sebastian remembered. 

The ginger smiled scared. “Yes, you did, sir.”   
  


When Sebastian passed him, he could almost smell the fear on this boy, yeah, even he was in Sebastian's age he was a boy, he saw him shaking when their eyes met and the ginger didn't look long into Sebastian's eyes. The ex-soldier wasn't surprised; he had met guys like him in the children's home and in the army. Their weakness always repelled him. 

 

Without any word to the boy he got into the car, sitting next to  _Moriarty_ again. Just like yesterday the man next to him seemed to be more interested in his cell phone than in a conversation. Suddenly Sebastian's legs felt weak and he remembered that he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday (the alcohol and then the adrenalin had distracted him). His head felt dizzy and unable to hold it up, he leaned against the soft leather back behind him. 

 

“As a soldier you should know that starving to death is very unhealthy.” The douchebag didn't even look up from his phone when he said that. 

“Yeah, thanks for the tip.” Sebastian answered, but it didn’t have the snapping tone he wished it had.

The other man smiled lightly.

“So, Moriarty, isn't it?”  
“You can call me boss.”  
“You really love it when people give you names, which show you as the dominant one, don't you?”

“Still a clever boy.”  
“Thanks, _boss_.” Sebastian smiled half sided. 

“Were you ever that disrespectful?”  
“My commanders knew what they had with me. You should know that, you read my file. And because you read my file, you know that I'm curious, so why am I here? Why did I shoot these people and who the fuck were these people?”

Finally Moriarty put back his cell. He glared at Sebastian, who didn't look away, although Moriarty seemed to expect that. Finally the smaller man smiled and opened his mouth (a nice one by the way, Sebastian could imagine fucking this mouth one day): “Russians, obviously.”  
“Yeah, but you work for the Russians, don't you?”  
“No, I could tell you the truth, but you wouldn't believe it anyway.”  
Sebastian frowned. 

“Well, you don’t have to know what I'm up to, do you? I just want you to build a new network in South Boston, talk with people, threat them, torture them, kill them, if it's necessary. You'll get exact instructions from me. Always. And even if you get caught, no worries, daddy’ll get you out again.” Moriarty winked at Sebastian, who felt more and more uncomfortable. Not because he was scared or something, he just wanted to know why he should do these things. Another test? 

“And why should I do that?”  
“Well, I let you live and you earn more money than you can imagine, as long as you don't betray or disobey me. I'd rather keep you to be honest with you.”  
“Aha,” Sebastian made, not sure what he should think about the whole thing. “And now?”  
“And now, tiger, we get you something to eat, you look terribly pale.”

 

After a few minutes of silence the car stopped. Far too enthusiastic Moriarty got out on his side, while Sebastian struggled to stand up. His legs still felt weak. He blinked when he stabilized himself on the car, ignoring the arm of the ginger driver. Maybe he felt fucking sick, but not that sick.

 

Meanwhile Moriarty was standing already at the door of the restaurant. It was an ordinary Italian restaurant, where you could buy normal portions. To be honest Sebastian had been scared that they would drive to one of these fancy restaurants, in which one portion couldn't fill a stomach, but cost more than a car. Not to mention that Sebastian would feel underdressed, while Moriarty in his suit looked almost overdressed in this normal establishment. 

 

Anyway. He had just entered the restaurant when something fell from him like a skin. Moriarty stood more straight, he didn't wink to one of the waiters, he clicked his fingers, and he came directly. At the same time Sebastian looked at the other guests, most of them male, Italian.  _Mafia_ , a bell rang in his head. And all of them went silent when they noticed Moriarty.

 

“The usual, Marcello,” Sebastian's new boss said.

The poor boy, Marcello, nodded fast and fearful before he turned around, signing them to follow him. 

 

Sebastian saw a few faces which went pale, most of them seemed to be scared. He looked back on Moriarty's back, because the smaller man was going on. The Russians and the Italians. Did he work for both? But why were the Italians so scared and why had Sebastian had to kill the Russian gangsters? He should build a new network in South Boston, a network out of locals probably, although the pubs fell more and more in the hands of Russians. That didn't sound like Moriarty would work for them, that sounded more like he would work  _against_ them, but which fucking creep would challenge the fucking Russians? 

 

Marcello led him into a room in the back. A door would separate Moriarty and Sebastian from the rest of the restaurant.

 

“Bread, boy, fast.” Moriarty ordered, when they finally sat at the table with the white tablecloth.

 

Someone older than Marcello brought a red candle like Sebastian and Moriarty would be on a fucking date. He even lit it. Sebastian leaned back while he was waiting on the bread watching Moriarty, who lit himself a cigarette. It was an almost erotic movement when he put the cigarette between his lips, lit it and took a drag. The ex-soldier still watched him and how Moriarty made eye contact it was pretty clear that he had noticed that. But none of them said a word until Marcello came back with the bread. 

 

It smelled freshly baked and garlic.

 

Moriarty smiled. “It's very good, when I'm not working, when I'm in Boston I always eat here.”  
Sebastian grabbed the bread and got two slices at the same time, but he was so hungry that he didn't care that he looked more like an animal when he bit the first piece. 

“Carefully, tiger, I don't want you to choke on it.” Moriarty said between two drags while he was watching Sebastian. His eyes glanced in amusement, but when he turned back to Marcello, the glance vanished. “Bring something with pasta. Carbs, carbs, carbs, they are what my friend here needs.”  
Marcello nodded and went very fast back to the kitchen.

“You scare him.”  
“I scare a few people.”  
“It's almost unbelievable.”  
A devilish smile flicked about Moriarty's face. “Because I'm so small?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, the power lies where people think it lies.”  
“And they think it lies on you, but you are just a helper for all the gangsters.”

Again this smile that sent shivers down Sebastian's spine. “More or less, yes.”

Sebastian took another bite of the bread. He chewed, slower now, while he was thinking. Moriarty was right, it was great. “Why did I kill the Russians?”

“They made me angry.” Something in Moriarty's eyes didn't let Sebastian question this answer. “You just killed the most powerful men of South Boston.”  
“So, I cleared out my own way in South Boston?”  
“Affirmative, clever boy, affirmative.” Lazily Moriarty took a slice of bread for himself. When he bit in it, he didn't even look like he would taste anything.

 

After his fourth slice of garlic bread Sebastian felt much better. Moriarty took another drag from his cigarette and for a moment they both fell in silence.   
  
The man, who had brought the candle, came back. “Something else?”  
“Yes, a decanter of your finest wine please.” Moriarty said, without looking away from Sebastian. “I hope you are okay with it.”  


Sebastian nodded because he didn't think they had beer or whiskey here. He wasn't a wine drinker, to be honest, he had never drunk wine before. Beer and whiskey was quite more common in the pubs of South Boston and he had never been in a restaurant before. 

 

“It looks almost like a date,” he mentioned, before he could stop himself. The best had been he had bit on his own tongue.

Moriarty laughed. “Who said it isn't one?”  
“On a date with the boss?”  
“Why not? My latest pet died this week.”

Sebastian tried to read Moriarty's face, but it was impossible to guess what the other man thought. “ _Pet_ ?” He just repeated asking.

“Yeah, you know, my bed bunny, the man I paid to warm my bed.”

“How did he die?” Again, talking without thinking. Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

But Moriarty just smiled small. “Shot himself.”  
“Oh.”  
“It was expectable , but the mess...”   


Sebastian clenched his jaw, while he tried not to think about Kevin. Of course Moriarty noticed it.

 

“Oh, apology, I've forgotten your loss.”

It made Sebastian's stomach turn upside down. He chewed on his lower lip, while he was trying to distract himself from the memories. “It's okay,” he managed to say, though he felt like his throat didn't want to let the words out. Marcello came with pasta, the other man with wine and so they saved him for another answer.

 

Sebastian avoided the wine, not just because he didn't know that he would like it. It was also about his stomach. It didn't feel full enough for alcohol and he didn't want to make a fool of himself, so he started with the pasta. The sauce was out of tomatoes and with meat, simple spaghetti with meatballs, but good, really good. He slowed down the eating when he noticed that Moriarty was still looking at him. The face of his new boss was unreadable. 

 

“Did you sleep with your fellow soldiers? After a job?” Moriarty poured wine in his glass.

Sebastian couldn't help himself. He grinned. “I wouldn't say I  _slept_ with them. We had  _sex_ , after jobs, after we buried a comrade.”

“I hope, you won't mind, if we have _sex_ tonight.”  
“No, I don't mind.”

Moriarty smiled again.


	27. 12th October 2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new pet is always something great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter is one of the reasons, why the story is explicit. Thanks to nitininha and the rest of the gang, who don't want to kill me today, I'm sure.

**Chapter 26: 12** **th** **October 2002, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

Sebastian Moran was a surprisingly controlled man. He hadn't reached out for Jim when they had been in the sedan again, and even when they had been in the elevator of the hotel, he hadn't seemed like he wanted to fuck Jim directly against the wall. 

 

Not till they were in Jim's room something sexual had happened, but the tiger behind him had just closed the door when he touched Jim's waist. The consulting criminal smiled when he felt the heat of the other body. Anyway he turned around, laid a hand on Sebastian's great chest and pushed him away a little bit. 

 

“Bedroom,” Jim said before he turned around again walking to the door at the other end of the entrance. While he was walking, he unbuttoned his jacket. 

 

The bedroom was big and comfortable, a big bed with a lot of pillows like Jim liked it. He took off his jacket, threw it on a seat at the bed before he looked after the tiger. The ex-soldier was much more careful, it was obvious that he wasn't accustomed to sleep in such an environment. Of course Jim knew his background: 

 

Sebastian was born and raised in South Boston. His mother had died when she gave him birth, his father was an alcoholic ex-soldier just like his son now (Jim wasn't stupid enough not to see that his new pet had a problem with alcohol, though it was just the alternative to the adrenalin he loved in the army). In the age of four he had come to a children's home because his father had beaten him (the scars on Moran's forearm had shown Jim that Augustus Moran hadn't just punched him). In the children's home he had met the boys Kevin and Jack, together they had been in the football-team of their school until Jack had left the school. Jack had started to study and was now teacher and coach on the South Boston Highschool. Sebastian and Kevin had gone to the army after school, a mistake, because Kevin had shot himself in Afghanistan after a translator and (according to the files) a friend of him died in a job. Anyway Sebastian hadn't quitted his job in the army, no, he had become what he was now. A man filled with the wish for violence, death and adrenalin. 

 

He was like Jim without the brain. He wanted to see the world burn.

 

“Strip.” Jim lay down in the bed, watching what Moran would do next.

Said one frowned. “What?”  
“I want you to strip, wasn't that clear?” Jim smiled.

“I'm not a lap cat.”  
“Oh, you are now.” Jim knew that threat lay in his voice, and he knew Moran wouldn't ignore it.

“That's kind of sexy.” He said instead.

Nearly Jim had laughed. The ex-soldier really liked to be ordered. Good!

 

Slowly Moran pulled out the black sweater of the black trousers. Jim could see how the muscles moved under the fabric, strong, trained muscles. He licked his lips, when he saw a little bit naked skin on Moran's hip. Meanwhile he loosened his tie. Moran watched his movements like he watched his and it was pretty sexy. Finally the ex-soldier took off the sweater. There were scars on his arms, his chest and of course the wound on the flank... For a moment Jim looked at it, before he paid attention to the other side.

 

An ink tiger dug his claws in Moran's skin, it looked angry and was so tattooed, that it moved with the muscles. Tiger... Moran's hands distracted Jim from the tattoo. They were big, the fingers perfectly formed to hold a rifle. At the moment they unbuttoned Moran's trousers. Alike the rest of the clothes the shorts were black. Sebastian took off his shoes to make it easier to come out the fitting jeans. He just stopped when he had to take off his socks.

 

“I want you nude, tiger, so away with the shorts!” Jim smiled.

 

Of course he saw the dent in the trousers of his pet. His own had gotten tighter as well. Lazily he put a hand on the dent in it. Knowing Moran would follow the movement with his eyes. The well-behaved little tiger also followed the order. Slowly, obviously to tease Jim, who didn't mind this little game, he took off the pants. 

 

“Touch your nipples.”

 

Jim rubbed about the dent while he was watching the ex-soldier’s hands to touch his own nipples. Moran's lips parted a little bit when he exhaled quietly.

 

“Twist.”

 

Of course he did. His cock jerked when he took them between index and middle finger to twist them. Automatically he let one nipple alone and wanted to touch his penis.

 

“Stop.”  
But he didn't.

 

Jim jumped on his feet to go to this idiot, who couldn't follow his orders. Moran wanted to stop touching himself when he saw, that Jim came to him, but it was too late: Moriarty slapped him, before he grabbed the pretty chin of the tiger hardly. 

 

“That. Was. Not. My. Order!” He hissed. “Bed. Now!” Moran's jaw clinched, but when Jim let him go, he went to the bed. He was still hard, the Irish man noticed. “Lay down. Hands over the head. Yeah, good boy.”

 

Jim himself walked to the bedside locker to fetch handcuffs. Not those with fur. Real ones, which were used by the police. In fact he didn't have the others, although they would be more logical with Moran. What Jim knew about his sex life was that he had never been in this kind of stuff, though he didn't seem like he wanted to complain about this new way. Moran even smiled and this smile brought Jim to another idea. He handcuffed the ex-soldier, who jiggled to test if they were really tight. Good boy. After that Jim went back to the bedside locker, where a riding crop still waited for him. 

 

He kept it behind his back, so the tiger couldn't see it. “What do you think would be a good punishment for your disobedience, tiger?”

The smile vanished when Jim mentioned the word  _punishment_ . Interesting. “I don't know, sir.” Fear. Jim could almost taste it. 

“Close your eyes.”

“Boss, please, don't!” Begging.

Jim stopped. His lust almost vanished because he hated it when they became whiney, he really hated it! “Moran, be a good soldier and close your eyes.” He ordered again. His hand clinched around the riding crop. 

For a moment it was silent, Moran still looked into his eyes, searched something in his face, before he exhaled and finally closed his eyes. “ Excuse me , sir.” 

“Don't open them, until I'll give you the permission.”  
Moran nodded while he tried to relax. He wasn't hard anymore; the fear had let him forget the lust he had felt before.

 

Jim sighed, but then he struck out and beat Moran's chest with the riding crop. The ex-soldier moaned, trying to fight against the handcuffs. To calm him down, Jim touched his chest, his hands wandering to Sebastian's nipples. Again a moan from the tiger, but now one of lust. With the index finger of the other hand Jim followed the welt, which was left by the riding crop, before he stepped back.

  
“Again?” He asked. His voice almost shook for excitement.

“Yes, sir, please,” Moran answered craggy. Jim looked at his penis, which swelled again. Finally he seemed to enjoy that kind of sex, the real kind.

 

Jim struck out, the riding crop met Moran's chest, who growled now, sounding like a real tiger. It was  _so_ sexy! 

 

“Never disobey me again, tiger,” he hissed after he beat Moran for the fifth time. 

 

His shirt was clammy from sweat and his trousers too tight, so he decided to undress himself now. Still he didn't give Moran the permission to open his eyes. Jim didn't want him to know what would happen next. It was fun to watch how those great legs began to shake, for fear or effort, Jim couldn't say. He took out the lube out of the famous bedside locker. Usually he would fuck Moran dry, but he wasn't sure how often the other man was fucked already and he didn't want to break his new toy in the first time. 

  
“Sir?” Moran asked.

“I'm still here, tiger.”  
Jim could see how the ex-soldier swallowed. “Good.” It really sounded like he was glad. 

 

Surprised Jim looked at him before he shook his head and climbed over Moran's legs. Of course the tiger felt the movement of the bed, so he asked:  
  
“Sir? What are you planning?”

 

Jim, who sat down, between these beautiful legs smiled, but didn't answer. He put the lube on his penis while he watched Moran frowning. The ex-soldier was still nervous. Good. Not till Jim took his ass and lifted it, he understood what was going on, but then he suddenly relaxed. Without any preparation Jim got into his ass. Moran moved his arms, like he wanted to grab the shoulders of his new master, but he was still handcuffed. The only thing he could do was moan. For a moment both man lay still there, Jim looked at Moran’s face, which showed a mixture of pain and lust. His lips were parted again while he tried to control his breath.   
  
“Open your eyes, tiger.” Jim ordered and his pet did.

 

A little smile lay on the face of the ex-soldier until Jim moved against him. The smile vanished, instead the lips opened wider to release a sigh. The cock between their bodies jerked again. Jim grabbed it, distributed the pre-cum on the top, before he moved again, harder now. Moran met him halfway, rocked his body against Jim's, who couldn't let a moan in his throat. They rocked against each other, while Jim rubbed Moran's penis, enjoying his tightness and heat around his own cock. Their breathing got faster, uncontrolled. The tiger fought against the handcuffs, which left red marks, so hard he fought. It didn't take long, both were almost finished from the foreplay, that they came after one or two more minutes. 


	28. December 24th 2004, New York City, New York, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is good in his job. He doesn't even care, when he has to work at christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha, because she is still correcting my text, to the gang, because they are psychopaths (though one is denying it) and to all the other readers!

**Chapter 27: December 24** **th** **2004, New York City, New York, USA**

Sebastian's face was blank, the perfect deadpan, while the Chinese in front of him was sweating like a pig. The gangster chewed on his lower lip while his eyes were wandering between his and Sebastian's men. Three of them, four on Sebastian's side, just like Moriarty had said. Moriarty always planned perfectly, even he wasn't linked about Sebastian's cell like now.

 

“ _But Jesus said to him, “Judas, would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?”_ ”

Sebastian smirked.

“What did he say?” The Chinese asked. He sounded nervous. Like most normal guys, he had never met Moriarty, but he had heard the stories... Not that Sebastian believed all the stories, most yes, but not all, but even the ones he believed were scary enough to keep him far away from Moriarty, if it hadn't been to late already.

“He quoted Luke, chapter 22, verse 48,” Sebastian answered honestly. He pulled out the gun on his waist. Faster than the other man could understand, Sebastian shot him a bullet between the eyes.

 

But this one time, Moriarty had made a mistake, he had underestimated their enemies. One of them was almost as fast as Sebastian. He pulled out his own gun and shot on the leader of their group, who was Sebastian in this case. Someway the ex-soldier managed to get his left arm in front of his face. The bullet struck one of the two bones, the pain didn't let Sebastian think right, he wasn't sure, which one.

 

He raised his own pistol again, shot the man who he had shot three times in the chest before he turned around, just to find the last of the Chinese with a bullet in the head.

 

“ _Sebastian, what happened?_ ” Moriarty asked through the headset.

 

When did he start to name him with his first name? One year ago? Since then he usually gave him pet names, not just _tiger_ like he did on Sebastian's first day. _Sebby_ , _Seb, Basty, Bastian_. It depended on the mood of his boss. But never ever he would say his full first name. Well, he hadn't till now.

  
“I'm okay, boss.” Sebastian managed to say, though his arm hurts like hell. “Just got shot.”  
“ _Where?_ ”

“Forearm.”  
“ _Brachial artery?_ ”  
“Doesn't bleed enough for it.” He turned his face to Samuel, one of his men. “I'm going to a doctor, take care for this mess, okay?”

Samuel nodded as Sebastian got out of his chair. Eoin, his cousin, got a bandage so they could take care of the wound for a start. Sebastian watched him when he bandaged it. Eoin was a paramedic, had served in the army just like Sebastian, he had struggled with the civilian life, so Sebastian had taken him in his first team. He had needed good men. He still did.

 

 

Finally Sebastian could go out of the conference room. He just wanted to pick out the headset, but then he realized that he was still hearing breathing at the other end.

 

“Boss, are you still here?”  
“ _Yes, I wanted to talk with you. Alone._ ”  
Sebastian looked back to the door he had just closed. “Well, we are alone, well, I'm alone. You aren't really here.”

Moriarty laughed and Sebastian couldn't deny that he learned to like it, although it always meant someone would die. “ _No, I'm not, am I_?”  
“Stop playing with my head, boss.”  
“ _I always thought, you would enjoy it_.”  
“Not when I'm shot, sir.”  
“ _Oh yeah._ ”  
“Are you bored?”  
“ _I'm always bored, you know that, darling._ ”  
“Yeah, but usually you are distracting yourself. So why do you wanna talk with me?”  
“ _I have a promotion for you._ ”  
“I control South Boston, what shall I do more?” Sebastian laughed.

“ _I want you to come to London_.”  
The ex-soldier stopped laughing. “London? Seriously?”

 

  
It was no secret in Moriarty's network that London was the headquarter, the goal. Everyone wanted to be there one day. Sebastian wasn't even sure why it was London. Suddenly his head felt dizzy, not so much, just like he had drunk three beers.

 

“ _Yes. One of my men..._ ” The pause had an obvious meaning. “ _...quit his job and now I need an alternative._ ”  
“Why me?”  
“ _You are one of the best._ ” It wasn't a compliment, Moriarty never made compliments, he just said the truth.

 

Sebastian straightened himself when he saw the CCTV that he passed and that followed his movements. He knew that Moriarty was watching. Walking down the stairs (he never used the elevator), he felt like a prey on a clearance because of the fucking cameras.

 

“ _I left exact introductions in your hotel room_.”

 

Of course he did. Moriarty wasn't a man for personal room, for him no one of his men had the right of personal room. It had driven Sebastian mad when he had seen that someone had broken into his flat. Nowadays he didn't care anymore, because it was normal. And sometimes, when Moriarty himself was in the city (Sebastian hadn't seen him again since their first meeting) he left little Post-its, like _Good done, tiger_ or _You have to go to the gym again, darling_.

 

“Thanks, sir.”

“ _See it as a Christmas present_.”


	29. December 30th 2004, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London, the headquarter of Moriarty's network...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end is a little bit smut for all, who want avoid it (but why should you do that? You already know that is an explicit fic, don't you?). As always: Thanks to nitininha to correcting the text and the gang for liking it and to the readers for... well, reading it.

**Chapter 28: December 30** **th** **2004, London, England, United Kingdom**

Sebastian wasn't surprised that the London Heathrow Airport was totally overcrowded. It was one of the biggest (if not  _the_ biggest) airports of Europe. Business men passed him hastening, tourists who look like they would come too late to their fly and others, who didn't look so hectic. And in this crowd Sebastian found a big white paper with the word  _tiger_ on it. He had almost laughed. 

 

Moriarty looked different today... so... normal. The suit he was wearing wasn't so fancy or fitting like the other two times Sebastian had seen his boss. The glasses on his nose weren't douchebag-sunglasses, just normal nerdy glasses. He looked like a PA or something. Anyway, when he saw Sebastian, he turned around waving that Sebastian should follow. This pain in the ass was bossy like ever. 

 

But of course Sebastian followed him. His left arm lay on his chest. He had needed an operation before he came to London. Moriarty had sent the ex-soldier to one of his “own” doctors, the kind who worked for criminals, were paid good and worth it. Still he hadn't been a miracle healer. Carefully, Sebastian moved the fingers of his left hand while he followed Moriarty, pulling his luggage with the right hand. 

 

At a new Mercedes in silver (Sebastian didn't have an idea about cars) leaned Moriarty's ginger driver, PA, whatever. One time he had visited Sebastian on his own, he had talked about how dangerous Moriarty was, how manipulative and what a bastard. Sebastian, after all, wasn't stupid. He didn't think that Moriarty had slept with him because he was so good or special. It was just another thing to get him caught. The ex-soldier  _hadn't stepped accidentally in this trap_ , he had wanted to do it. 

 

Anyway, the ginger opened the door to the rear bench seat to let Moriarty in before he helped Sebastian with the luggage, although the ex-soldier didn't need help.

 

“You are still here,” the ginger hissed.

Sebastian smiled. “Do you really think I didn't know it before you talked to me?”

 

The pale-blue eyes widened, but Sebastian just closed the trunk, so the ginger had to step back, otherwise he would have gotten hurt. With a grim smile Sebastian looked at him before he turned around to follow his boss into the car. 

 

“You know what he told me?” He asked to said one, who just nodded. “And it's okay for you?”  
“He got punished already.” Moriarty smiled lazily at Sebastian. “Now let us stop talking about him, we should talk about the work.”  
“Yes, of course. What will be my job?”  
“Almost the same things like in Boston. You had the chance to meet a few members of the tong already?”  
Sebastian looked at his wounded arm. “If you want to call it like that, boss.”

Moriarty followed his glare, but didn't say anything about it. “You will play me in front of them.” His face was unreadable.

“What?” The ex-soldier frowned.

“You understood me, Moran, don't play the fool, I hate fools.”  
  


Sebastian's eyes followed the side-face of his boss. The nose which would have looked cute in a less angry face; the mouth, which could smile flirty and amused; the jawline, which moved because Moriarty clenched his jaw. And the eyes. Though they didn't look at Sebastian at the moment, he never lost the feeling they were watching him, analyzing him. 

 

“You look very normal today, sir,” he heard himself saying.

Finally, Moriarty was smiling again. “Camouflage, tiger, camouflage. No one looked at a PA, though he picked up an all brawn and no brain looking guy.”  
“Is that an insult?”  
“Oh, don't be so obvious, tiger! I said, you  _look_ like that, and it's exactly what I need to convince the tong, that you are me. Most people suppose that I'm taller, that everything I do, I can do because of my physical advantage.”

“I had never thought so.”  
Again a smile. “Yeah, because you are _clever_ , well, cleverer than most human-beings.”  
Sebastian couldn't help himself and smiled back before he was brave enough to say: “That's why you’re attracted to me.”  
“This and your body. Did you know that you are gorgeous?” It sounded like a joke, but a little bit of truth lay in every joke.

“I hear it now and then.”  
  


~Φ~

 

“I hope you'll forgive, because I prepared everything for your _coming_ yet.” 

 

Ambiguity resonated in the word  _coming_ and Sebastian saw why when Moriarty let him in the bedroom of his hotel room. Like the first time the room was huge, too big for Sebastian's taste, the furniture was too rich, it was more Moriarty's than his taste. Maybe he should rent his own flat when he would stay longer (and he planned to stay longer). But besides the big bed Sebastian noticed the  _toys_ on his night table. His mouth went dry and an animal instinct told him to grab Moriarty and fuck him on the next wall. But instead of doing that Sebastian straightened himself. He held his face up, their feet a few inches away from each other, he put the right hand behind his back, while the other lay useless on his chest in bandages. Moriarty, who had entered the room before him, turned around, delight in his eyes. 

 

“You look like a soldier.”  
“I was a soldier.”  
“True.”

 

Moriarty's movements were controlled like the last time, the movements of a hunter, when he came to Sebastian to touch his chest. Sebastian felt the fingers through his shirt. He wore a simple suit, not such a fancy one like Moriarty had the last time. In his usual clothes he would have been too remarkable in the business class. 

 

“Shall I take off my clothes, boss?” He asked like he had asked for permission in the army.

“No, not at all.” Moriarty smiled. “On your knees.”  
  


Sebastian needed a moment to understand, but Moriarty wasn't patient enough. He went around the ex-soldier and kicked in his left hollow of the knee.

  
“I said: Kneel!”

 

The ex-soldier fell on his knees, ignoring the pain in the left one, while Moriarty went around again, so he stood in front of Sebastian now. Almost gently he brushed a few blond strands of his sniper back, before he grabbed the hair hardly.  _Zip_ . Moriarty's pants were opened. 

 

“Pull him out,” Moriarty ordered.

 

Just like the first time Sebastian followed his words. He unbuttoned the pants, felt the cheap material under his hands, so it would be easier. Carefully, he pulled the pants down before he took the underwear between his fingers. It was more Moriarty's style. Silk and dark blue. A beautiful contrast to the pale skin, Sebastian touched around it. 

 

He had never touched Moriarty before. After the sex in Boston, Moriarty had gone to his own room without a kiss or anything, except to free Sebastian. The ex-soldier had felt like a whore, but it was okay, wasn't it? It wasn't that he was something special, just a one night stand, just one fuck. So he had thought. 

 

Moriarty was sexually aroused already. Sebastian took the hard flesh into his hand while his own cock grew. 

 

“Tongue.”  
  
The ex-soldier leaned forward, teased his boss with his tongue. The grab in his hair got tighter. He couldn't help himself, he had to groan, while Moriarty was totally quiet. Black eyes followed Sebastian's movements, when he followed the order “Mouth” and “Tongue” and “Teeth”. Army experiences could be an advantage even in bed, and so Sebastian sucked, licked and nibbled at Moriarty's penis, while he wished his boss would finally stop this torture and fuck him till he couldn't sit anymore. 

 

The salty pre-cum just made it worse. Sebastian grabbed Moriarty's slender legs, who didn't complain. The ex-soldier dug his nails in the cheap material of Moriarty's pants and then finally his boss came in his mouth. He swallowed everything, because he was very sure that was what Moriarty wanted. His own penis in his pants hurt so hard it was.

 

“Bed.” Moriarty ordered and Sebastian was sure, he had ever been happier about this short word. 


	30. 31st December 2004, London, England, United Kingdom

**Chapter 29: 31** **st** **December 2004, London, England, United Kingdom**

His inner clock said it was three o'clock, the sun still needed a few hours to rise. Jim looked at the ceiling. The man next to him was breathing. The consulting criminal could hear his breathing. He was bored, maybe he should wake him, they could have another round... but, no, no. The tiger needed his sleep at the moment. The next days he had to learn how to be Moriarty, even without a jet lag and nights full of sex, it was hard enough.

 

Finally it was Stayin' alive that saved Jim from his boredom. Well, more his handy, well, more Yoshiko Sato. Sato was one of Jim's men who were wrangled in the Yakuza. In fact he wasn't more like a little spider, a little bird, an ordinary spy, though he was a good shooter, close combat fighter, clever (more or less) and the most important thing: loyal.

 

“Yes, Sato?” He answered the call after he had left the bedroom.  
“ _Good evening, Mr Moriarty,_ ” Sato greeted in his Japanese accent, which was always hilarious.  
Jim didn't laugh anyway. “How can I help?”  
“ _I need information about the following politicians._ ”

 

Unlike most human beings Jim didn't get paper and a pen to write the names down. He memorised them automatically. A few years ago he had to memorise with a lot of thinking, he had to imagine his mind palace as one the big thing it was, but nowadays it was an automatism.

 

“I'll take care for it,” Jim said after he had the names. Without another word he hung up.

 

The lounge of this hotel room was like the bedroom, huge and comfortable and with modern furniture. Jim’s laptop was on the glass coffee table. While he had been busy with Moran, Kevin had brought the thing. After a visit to the kitchen, where Jim had gotten a glass of fancy whiskey, he went back to the lounge to sit down on the white leather couch in front of the table. He was still naked. The leather felt cold on his hot skin.

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, in his mind he went back to a room that looked pretty much like the bedroom where the tiger slept. He saw him fighting against the chains, anger and lust and pain distorted the pretty face of his sniper, but then Jim shook his head. Memories were fine, but he had work to do.  
  
Of course he could call someone who would do it for him, but he was bored anyway and because he was full of the memories of the night before, his little tiger was in danger to get woken up. So he opened the laptop and started it. He took a sip of the whiskey while the laptop booted on his lap. It was a really good whiskey, he should buy Moran a bottle, because he was such a good kitty.

 

Jim got the information very fast. Moral or immoral, financial situation, friends, family, sexual preferences (Oh dear! One of them was secretly gay!), affairs, other pressure points... He sent it to Sato before he closed the laptop again.

 

Sighing he stood up again. He was so bored. This little distraction hadn't been challenge enough!

 

When Jim went to the kitchen to get more whiskey, he looked at Sebastian’s bag. It wasn't the luggage Sebastian had had at the airport, it was the bag with his weapons Jim's men had brought. Jim licked his lips. That could be enough distractions. Slowly and quietly he went to the bag, listening, but the tiger seemed still sleeping. So Jim leaned to the bag before he brought it to the couch, where he put it. Hmm, music would be good, wouldn't it? He walked to the stereo, this time less carefully, but still Sebastian didn't sound like he was awake. Johann Sebastian Bach.

 

Back at the couch Jim pulled out Sebastian's revolver. Since Sebastian had started working for him, the sniper had gotten more and more guns: this revolver, a FN Five-seveN, because the munition was so big, and three new sniper rifles.

 

But in the moment Jim was just interested in the revolver. He got one bullet out of the bag, one golden bullet. A smile swayed his face as he put it in the magazine. With a simple move of his hand he spin the drum so he couldn't know where the bullet was.

 

Jim put the barrel in his mouth, the finger around the trigger, ready to pull it, ready to die or to live.

 

“What do you think you are doing?” Tiger's voice was cold.

His boss put the barrel out of his mouth again. “Just a little game.”  
“Not in my hotel room, not with my gun.”  
  
Sebastian came to him, automatically Jim grabbed the gun tighter, pressed it at his chest.

 

“Boss.” Never before one of Jim's inferiors had talked with him in this tone. Threat lay in Sebastian's voice. “Give. Me. The. Gun.”

“I'm bored,” Jim snapped.

“I don't care.” Blue eyes stabbed the Irish man.

 

A big hand, bigger than Jim's, grabbed at his chest, but still Jim didn't let the gun go. They bickered with each other, both pulled the gun between them, till Jim decided that was stupid. He let the gun go, so Sebastian fell backwards on the coffee table, which broke rattling under the weight of the ex-soldier. Shards dug in Sebastian's skin, he bled. Jim stood above him, watching him, how he tried to move, but it made it just worse.

 

“Fuck.” The tiger moaned. “Help me.”

Jim looked at the bleeding hand that put forward him. He struggled one moment, thinking he should punish Sebastian for his stupidity. He could punch this beauty face till no one would recognise it... His hands started to shake, just the thought made him hard and Sebastian could see it. Fear lay in the blue eyes, no threat anymore, just pure fear.

 

“No...” the tiger said quietly.

Jim swallowed, and then he finally took the hand. He helped Sebastian on his legs. “I'll take care of your back.”

Beaten, Sebastian nodded. His fists clenched, but Jim pretended that he didn't see it. Firstly he put away the gun, which was the best with Sebastian's emotional state. The sniper still stood in front of the broken table, shivering. Jim didn't know that he shivered because of the cold or the fear. He just hoped it was the first one...

 

~Φ~

 

“You are suicidal,” Sebastian said when Jim came back with bandages from the bathroom.

His boss laughed. “No, like I said, I was just bored.”

“ I was bored and I was suicidal, boss, I know the difference.”  
Jim smirked, but didn't say anything to that. “I think you can call me Jim now.”  
“Whatever you wish, sir.”


	31. 17th March 2005, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is a big kitty, Jim thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shame was an inspiration for this chapter (it's very obvious by the way). Still I love the movie, I love how Fassbender plays and the whole story is so tragic but still good. Well, I'm stopping talking about Shame now. Like always I want to thank nitininha for correcting the chapters and the gang for being the gang and reading and loving the story and to all readers, because you read this.

**Chapter 30: 17** **th** **March 2005, London, England, United Kingdom**

It was cold here under the ground. He looked down to the rails, imagining his brilliant head down there. A train would come, hit his head. Red blood and grey brain everywhere on the rails. It would be so fun, so unboring! He sighed, but then he felt that someone grabbed his expensive coat and pulled him back from the edge of the platform.

 

“Stop fucking around,” a deep voice said behind him while he was pulled.

 

Now they stood next to each other. The other man was taller than him, stronger. He could feel his body heat, so close they stood. The taller man was wearing a grey, great tailored coat he had bought him in January. The blue scarf around his neck fitted perfect to his eyes, but even now he couldn't deny his beastly nature. The way he looked at the smaller man was the way a predator looked at his prey.

 

“Jim, stop looking at me like this.”  
“How do I look?” The smaller man snapped. “I can't see my own face, can I, Moran?”

The tiger laughed and it didn't look like the laugher of a tiger. It looked more like a shark. “Like I have stolen your favorite toy.”  
“You are just boring, Sebastian.”

“Last night you didn't complain that I'm boring.” Ah, that sounded more like the big kitten Moran was. Almost purring.

“Last night was okay.”

Sebastian smiled, but he stood to Jim's left, so Jim couldn't see the black eye he had given him the night before.

 

It had been his own fault, something had gone wrong with a job in America. Jim had been angry, he could have screamed and when Sebastian had come it was too late. _Because of the traffic_ _._ One look in Jim's face and he had know what was going on. He had stood still while Jim punched him. Over and over again. The last punch had struck his eye before Jim had kissed his sniper passionately. It hadn't been the first time that Sebby was turned on by it, and it wouldn't be the last.

 

“What are you planning for tonight?” the sniper asked after a few moments of silence.

“I have to work, no playtime for you, tiger.”  
“Oh,” Sebastian made. It didn't sound as disappointed as Jim expected.

 

The train came, they got in. They had to stand because no one reacted at his evil gaze. Stupid humans who didn't know in what a dangerous world they lived. Jim's hand grabbed around one of those pole where the people could find a stabilizing. He could just imagine how many bacilli were on it. Stupid traffic.

 

Sebastian stood behind Jim like a bodyguard and in the last time he had been one for his boss more often than both had thought at the beginning. Their hands were just a few inches away from each other, they could touch each other and no one would notice it. Not that they would do such a thing. _No touches in outside of one of their flats or hotel rooms_ _._ It was one of their rules. Most of them came from Jim, who cared about his reputation, well, that was just the reason for the _no touch_ rule.

 

“So what would you like to do instead, tiger?” He asked as they stood there, surrounded by all the creatures who used the tube.

“It's Saint Paddy's Day.” Sebastian said it was a matter of fact.

 

Yeah, for most Irish people or people with Irish roots, it was maybe a matter of fact. Not so much for Jim Moriarty. He never understood why people celebrated the day of a saint with drinking and flirting in pubs. It sounded so... dull.

 

“So... you are going out?”  
“Same procedure as every year, boss.”  
  
Ah yeah, now Jim remembered. Sebastian Moran had stopped the drinking since he worked for Jim, well... except one day a year. But that wasn't why Jim remembered the day so well. You see, he was always a very possessive person. His pets shouldn't fuck around when they shared his bed. And Sebastian Moran was a very good looking man, with alcohol in the game he could get any woman and the most gay or bi- or pansexual man he wanted. Hopefully he wouldn't do something stupid tonight...

 

Jim knew himself, he would kill anyone who would come too close to his tiger. In this beautiful man he had dug his claws and he wouldn't let him go. Not alive.

 

_“_ When you will back?” Sebastian asked.  
“Why, do you think I'm going away?”  
He could hear the smirk in the next words of his sniper. “You have problems in North America, you told me yesterday, did you forget?” Clever bastard.  
“I never forget something.”  
“I know,” Sebastian laughed. “So, when will you be back?”  
“When I solve the problem.”  
“Will you call me then?”  
“You sound like an addict.”  
“Will you call me then, Jim?” The ex-soldier repeated.

Jim sighed. “Yeah, of course I will.” Sebastian's finger felt cold on his skin, Jim winced. “Not -!” He started to say, but his pet break in on him.

“I must go in the next out. I think... I'll see you, when you are back.”  
“You are really addicted, Moran.”  
“I'm sorry, boss.”  
  
But he wasn't. When he left the train he turned around again, gave Jim a smile through the glass. And Jim realised that Sebastian was scared of him. Yes, that he might see him as a psychopath, but he was the only one who came to him because he wanted to. Stupid, little tiger, Jim thought, when the train moved again.


	32. March 17th 2005, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the only night in the year, Sebastian drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha for correcting the text, to the gang because they are awesome and to all the readers!

**Chapter 31: March 17** **th** **2005, London, England, United Kingdom**

_“_ _You won't come._ _”_

“Well, I'm stuck in London,” Sebastian tried to sound like he was sorry.

_“You weren't even here when it was his day of death._ _”_

The ex-soldier bit on his lower lip. “My boss is a little bit difficult, I've already told you!”

_“Ah yeah, the famous boss who doesn't even care when your best friend's day of death is._ _”_

“Jack, I'm... sorry, it's complicated.” He looked at his shoes.

 

A day off always meant for him to wear normal clothes. Jim preferred his employees in suits, especially when they played his bodyguards or were playing him in publicity. Otherwise Sebastian liked his jeans and hoodies or t-shirts.

 

_“_ _I don't even know what you are doing for him!_ _”_

Sebastian frowned. “What are you implying? I'm his bodyguard.”

 _“_ _Yeah, but who is he? You never talk about him, except_ _He is difficult_ _, what does that even mean?_ "

“Jack...”

 _“_ _Does he do something illegal? I heard things about London..._ ”

Automatically Sebastian laughed barking.

 

Jim Moriarty did a lot of illegal stuff, yes. Drugs, human trafficking, prostitution, murders, corruption, the whole shebang, but Sebastian knew that Jim was in a few legal businesses, too. He had stock, a few clubs under another name and Sebastian was sure that wasn't all.

 

 _“_ _Was that your answer?_ _”_ Jack sounded angry. _“_ _I'm worried, Sebastian, I don't know, what you are doing, that you are alright, fuck! You can be honest with me for once! _“__

“I'm not a fucking kid anymore, Jack. I can take care of myself.”

Sebastian's friend laughed but not happily. “ _Seriously?! You can take care of yourself?! The last time I saw you, you were drunk and punched a man until he almost died._ ”

“Oh, fuck off!” Sebastian hung up.

 

He sighed. Yeah, he missed Jack and at the same time he didn't want to see him. Maybe because of the memories of Kevin, maybe because Jim could find and kill him. Sebastian wasn't sure what Jim would do to keep him close, but he knew he would do anything to keep Jack far away from his boss.

 

~Φ~

 

Irish pubs were the same all over the world, especially at Saint Paddy's Day. Music, Guinness, and totally overcrowded, especially at this day. London wasn't so different after all.  
  
Sebastian straightened his green scarf while took a sip of his Guinness. In front of him was a group of women in his age drinking shots. He smiled about their faces, it was obvious that they didn't often drink shots. One of them looked up, their gazes met each other. She raised a glass in his direction, he replied the favor. When had been the last time he had just flirted with a woman? It was like ages ago, somewhere in the United States.

 

With his Guinness he stood up, walking to the lady. She had dark hair and dark eyes, a little bit like Jim, but her eyes weren't so... they didn't seem, like they just looked into your eyes.

 

“Sebastian,” he introduced himself to her, her friends looked annoyed, so he decided to be polite today. “Sorry if I'm rude, Sebastian, hi, Sebastian!” He said, while he gave everyone his hand. “Can I invite you – you all to a drink?”

The black haired beauty nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“What are you drinking? Guinness?”

“I've never drunk Guinness.”

“No way! What is with you?” He asked the others, but none of them had ever drunk Guinness. “We can't let live you with that shame! Barkeeper, a round of Guinness, please!”

 

~Φ~

 

He had forgotten her name, but her body was so warm, so soft. Her hand lay on his flank, directly on a bruise he had gotten from Jim. It was one of the reasons, why he turned off the light when they had had sex the night before. She shouldn't have seen it. Sebastian sighed when her hand moved lightly.

 

“You have a lot of bruises. Why?” Her dark eyes looked at him full of sympathy.

“I play rugby,” he lied smiling.

 

He couldn't tell her that his fucking boss used him as a punching ball and that he was turned on by it... Oh god, he was so fucked up.

 

“Oh,” she said, before she wanted to kiss him.

He avoided the touch. “Sorry, I have to go.”

“What?”

“Yeah, my boss... He... He will call me soon and...”

“Your boss? Didn't you get free for the day after Saint Paddy's Day?”

“He is... difficult.” Sebastian remembered Jack saying that imitating him.

 

She wanted to grab his wrist when he got up, but he shook her touches off. His hair was a mess, she had grabbed it last night, and he shouldn't worry about it, but he did anyway. Quickly he got his clothes while she was still watching him.

 

“Will I see you again?”

He frowned. “Didn't I make clear, that this here was just a one night stand?”

“I want to see you again.”

“Aha,” he answered as he slipped in his jeans.

“Sebastian, I'm serious.”

“Yeah, I'm too.”

“Come on, Sebby.”

 

Wrong. No one called him _Sebby_. No one except Jim. Just half dressed he got back to the bed, saw her smile. She thought he would fuck her again, but that was the last thing he wanted at the moment. He jumped on her legs, grabbed her shoulders.

 

“Didn't you fucking listen?”

Her smile vanished.

He grabbed her tighter, shook her. “I don't care about you, you fucking bitch, okay? I don't fucking care, what you want and don't you dare to call me _Sebby_ one more time!”


	33. March 24th 2005, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never betray a man, who could kill you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha for correcting the text, to the gang of the chat (although you don't let me sleep, yeah, it's your fault!) and to the readers, because it's also your fault, when I say "I just wanna finish this chapter". Love you all.

**Chapter 32: March 24** **th** **2005, London, England, United Kingdom**

Sebastian unlocked the door, which was just a part of a bigger door for trucks and pallet transporters. He held a heavy bag in his left hand. He pulled off his earphones and stopped the song his handy was playing, although it was one of his favorites. Orion by Metallica. And then he finally entered the one-time fabric building.

 

Everything was well prepared, typical for Jim, though he was absent. A table for the tools, a chair to sit and to make the prisoner nervous and of course the prisoner himself, tied up to a hook at the ceiling, so he had to stand. Just like Sebastian liked it. The ex-soldier went slowly to the guy.

 

He had no idea what the poor man had done, but when Jim sent his best man, it had to be something big. Like a tiger, Sebastian crept to the tied man, watched the ties, good old leather. The sniper couldn't help himself, he smiled as he watched his caught prey.

 

“I'm sorry that I'm late,” he apologized. “My boss told me very late that you were here.”  
  
That was true. Jim had called him an hour ago, told him someone needed a warning. His minions had prepared everything, but Jim hadn't wanted them to do the rest, _they weren't good enough_ _._ So it was Sebastian's job to satisfy the blood lust of his boss.

 

The man couldn't answer. Jim had made sure that he was gagged. It was easier because of the screams he would try to make later. Not that Sebastian was against screaming of his victims, but someone outside could hear them. It was just a safety precaution.

 

“I shall give you a warning... hm... I could beat you or break your hand...”

The man winced, whimpered against the gag. Tears came out of his eyes.

“Yeah, the hand is every good. Did you know that no torture is good when you forget the fucking hand?”

He tried to fight against the leather. Of course it didn't work.

 

Sebastian untied one of his hands. Just for a moment his victim looked hopefully in his eyes before he realized that Sebastian would do what he did say, but not directly. The ex-soldier took off his jacket, under that he wore a sleeveless shirt, because it would be very, very warm very, very soon. He got the thumbscrew out of his bag.

 

In the moment he wanted apply it, the bigger door opened. Frowning he watched the car, which came in slowly. It was one of the fancy ones Jim owned. Sebastian's handy buzzed. Jim sent him a text.

 

_Give me a show, tiger._

 

The knowledge Jim would watch him directly sent shivers down Sebastian's spine. The sniper licked his dry lips before he put the pointer finger of his victim in the thumbscrew. Sweat was running down the face of the man, he was shaking, he smelled like piss and fear and it made Sebastian hard, when he turned the screw, which crushed the pointer finger.

 

The strange guy screamed choking because of the gag. It cracked and a white bone came out the skin. Saliva, tears and sweat mixed on the face of the poor guy as Sebastian loosened the thumbscrew to put it on his middle finger. Same procedure there, but he needed longer to break the finger. The man's eyelids chattered. So Sebastian thought it was enough.

 

He took off the thumbscrew again, stepped back from the guy before he turned around to the car. Jim stood there, leaning on the opened door and applauding.

 

“Sir,” Sebastian greeted nodding.

“That was amazing. I love how your face is a mask full of anger and lust when you torture people!”

“Compliments, boss? That's not your style.”

Jim laughed and Sebastian didn't want something more than to be fucked by him. “I have a little... present for you, darling.”

“A present? Seriously? Is Christmas again?”

“No, it's just... well... I noticed you like women...”

Sebastian frowned. “That's nothing new, sir.”

“No, but I thought, you were _my_ pet now.”

The tone in Jim's voice said Sebastian, he should shut up. Don't move, don't play. Do whatever your master say to you.

 

Jim grabbed into the car and got a woman out. She stood weakly on her legs and she was so pale, Sebastian didn't remember her at first. Then his heart sank down. The woman was the bitch he had had sex with at Saint Patrick's Day, nothing special, just a one night stand. Her dark hair lay in her face, so he couldn't see much, but he remembered the body. So soft. He swallowed.

 

“Why... why did you bring her to here, Jim?” He asked, his voice shaking.

“To make a position, Sebby.”

“What position?”

“Never ever betray me.”

“I didn't betray you! We didn’t even say we have something exclusive and -” He stopped abruptly. “We don’t have something exclusive... you... you are just possessive.”

“Is that surprising for you?” Jim grabbed the girl tighter, who whimpered.

Sebastian sighed. “No, no not at all. But... She... it wasn't her fault, Jim!”

“She touched my tiger!”

“She didn't know who I am! And... who you are!”

“She called you _Sebby_!”

 

In this moment Sebastian realized that he wasn't free anymore. He could live with the fact that he wouldn't fuck around anymore, but that Jim spied on him. No. Just no!  
  
“What do you want me to do?”

“Shoot her.” Jim smiled.

 

Sebastian went to his bag, his movements automatical. He sweated and he was scared and he wanted to fucking kill Jim Moriarty! But when he turned around, seeing in the black eyes, he knew, he couldn't do this.

 

“It's the last job I will do for you, Jim,” he said instead, before he aimed the woman and shot her between the eyes.

 

She fell backwards. He heard her falling to the ground above the blood rushing in his ears. Sebastian licked his lips again. They were dry again, dry like his throat. He tried to swallow, but it didn't work.

 

“Do you think, I let you just walk away?” Jim asked.

Sebastian smiled sadly. “You know, I wouldn't tell anyone what happened while I was working for you.”


	34. May 14th 2005, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes everyone needs distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea of rugby but I made my research, still I can't guarantee that I get it right. Anyway thanks to nitininha to correct the text, to the gang and especially cubby for the idea with rugby and to all the other readers.

**Chapter 33: May 14** **th** **2005, London, England, United Kingdom**

Sebastian limbered up while he watched the Brits. Most of them were in his age, but they didn't have a lot in common. They all had normal jobs like Adam, who invited Sebastian to this training.

 

Adam was a trainer in Sebastian's favorite gym. Yesterday he talked the first time with the ex-soldier, who could take care of himself in the gym, so he needed no trainer. Anyway Adam had come to him. At first Sebastian was scared that he wanted to flirt with him (since the events with Jim he didn't flirt with anyone, although he had no contact with Jim anymore). Adam though was one of the Arnold Schwarzenegger guys, which seemed to live in their gyms, but he started so shy to greet Sebastian, that it really seemed like he wanted to flirt with Sebastian. All brawn, no brain , Jim's voice said sarcastically in Sebastian's head. He tried to shake it off.

 

“Hey, ah... I'm Adam...”

“Sebastian,” he introduced himself shortly. “What can I do for you?”

“Well... My rugby team has a little problem, one of our forwards is injured and we need someone who could replace him.”

“And why are you talking with me about it?”

“You have the right physique. And I know you train very hard, so you could use your energy to train with us.”

“I'm not really a team guy.”

“Oh, come on, it would be fun!”

Sebastian hadn't been that sure, although... It had been a little bit like football and he had loved football as a teenager. “Yeah, we can try a training session.”

“Great!” Adam had patted him on the back. “We meet every Saturday at 3 o'clock pm.”

 

And now he was here, listening to guys his age who talked about their wives and kids like it was the most normal thing in the world. Well, for them it had to be, Sebastian thought. He himself had never wanted a domestic life. Till now there wasn't any place for something like that. A professional killer and a family, that sounded so stupid even in his ears!

 

“Jimmy wanted to come to the game next week, he is very proud of his rugby playing dad!” Smiled one of them. Another forwards, if Sebastian remembered right. Of course Adam had introduced everyone, but it was still confusing. Something with... Steven? No, maybe not. Jim had known it.

 

Just the thought made Sebastian's stomach turn upside down. He was still pissed with his boss, but he missed him. Somehow. A little bit. It made him fucking angry with himself.

 

Another guy came to him. “Hey, I'm Daniel. Backrow like you.”  
Sebastian gave him his hand automatically. “Sebastian.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daniel laughed. “Thanks that you replace Noah.”

“No worries.”

“Were you in a team before?” Curiosity blinked in Daniel's eyes.

“Yeah, well... ah... I played football in my youth.”

“Football? How come?”

“I'm American.”

“Ah, this is the accent!”

“Yeah...”

“Cool, so never played rugby?”

“No, but I watched it in pubs.”

“Sure, but it's not the same as playing it.

Do you see Steven there?” Daniel pointed to a guy, who wasn't the man who Sebastian had thought was Steven. “He is the Hooker , first row, middle. Adam is Loosehead Prop , first row, left.” Sebastian nodded to signal that he understood. “Adam is very good, well, maybe he would be better, if he let the pills for his muscles. Mark there is Tighthead Prop, first row, right. So the first row is complete.

The second is build by the twins Balthazar and Barnabas. In the training and in a match they are very great, but besides that they just make jokes.”

 

After a while Sebastian's head felt dizzy because of the whole names so he just nodded. All the time he felt like someone watched him, but he wouldn't be surprised if Jim would still spy on him. It made him nervous, he felt like a prey on a clearing. Not a nice feeling by the way.

 

Anyway, the training went very well. He got more down than the others, but he was a newbie in this sport and everyone encouraged him at the end. A few guys even joked he was better than their standard number 8. At the end everyone got a beer. Adam, Daniel, the twins B&B, like they were called by everybody and Bobby, the third in the backrow, planned to go to a near pub, while most of the others wanted to go home to wife and kids. More and more left the rugby field. They said goodbye, putting their bottles in the beer crate. Sebastian thought about going home, too, but Daniel asked him directly that he wanted to come with them to the pub.

 

“ It won't be anything special, just a few friends with their drinks.” He smiled.

Sebastian thought about Jim and that wouldn't be a good idea, but finally he nodded. “Yeah, of course I come with you.”

 

It was not that anyone or anything was waiting for him at home. No job, no wife or girlfriend or boyfriend, no friends. Not even Jim. It drove him mad, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself and he couldn't forgive Jim. In his night dreams he saw him above him, himself lying on the shards of this fucking table. He turned the head just to look in dead dark eyes. Not Jim's from this poor girl and when he felt again the bruises Jim made him when he was angry.

 

A night in the pub would help, he hoped.


	35. May 21st 2005, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is a manipulative bastard and Sebastian just an insenct in his net.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still I can't guarantee that I know all rules of rugby, but yeah, I did my best. Thanks to nitininha for correcting the text, to the gang, because you are awesom and to all the readers, who have to deal with me a while (I'm not even close to the end).

**Chapter 34: May 21** **st** **2005, London, England, United Kingdom**

Sebastian's whole body hurt. Tomorrow he would find a lot of bruises and scratches on his body, he knew it. Anyway, a few seconds he had to bear up. Probably they would win, though it wasn't his credit. He was still new to the game, good maybe, but he wasn't used to be tackled without his padded uniform for football. But that didn't matter now. 

 

One of the opposing team let the ball fall, so the teams had to organize for the scrum. The first row stood in front of the first row of the opposing team, behind them the second row and at the end Daniel, Bobby and Sebastian came to push from behind. Sebastian's body hurt, but anyway he managed to push until Steven could kick the ball backwards. Sebastian got it, so he ran around the scrum, hoping that someone was following him before the opposite team would get him. 

 

In front of him a man stood, not directly taller... but... bigger, more muscles. He looked behind him, Adam was following him so Sebastian gave him the ball. Always backward, never forwards he remembered. The guy, who stood in front of him, started to run, but he wasn't focused on Adam. Their bodies, his and Sebastian's, collided. It pressed the air out of Sebastian's lungs. He fell into the grass, watching Adam's shoes passing him running. 

 

The last time Sebastian felt so alive was when Jim had kicked his ribs a week and a half before their big fight. Someone had gotten a job, Jim had wanted and he had been so fucking pissed. Sebastian had just been there. 

 

Someone got him on his own feet. He needed a moment to see that it was Adam. The taller man smiled. 

 

“You made it very well, Sebastian,” he said.

“The... the game is over?” It still hurt to breath.

Adam laughed. “Wow, he really knocked out you, didn’t he?”

“Not really. I just... I had to breathe a little bit.”

“Well, you deserve a beer after that match!” The taller man tapped him on the shoulder. 

 

It fucking hurt like everything: Moving, talking and breathing. But beer sounded great! A whiskey would do the rest. 

 

~Φ~

 

The pub was almost empty. Everyone who came in and saw the noisy rugby turned around. Anyway, the owner of the pub would make enough profit with them. Sebastian drank his third or fourth beer (well, it could be also his fifth, he didn't count), listening to Adam, who told the others for the third time, how Sebastian lay in the grass, unable to move. 

 

“Yeah, that's very funny. The guy was a fucking giant!” Sebastian fired back.

Daniel supported him: “And in fact it was a foul. Sebastian didn't have the ball anymore.”  
The rest of the team nodded. A few mumbled things like “the umpire was very stupid”, “how could he be  so  blind?” and “got a few pounds to look away the whole game”. Everyone seemed to agree. 

 

Laughing Sebastian went to the bar to get a round of whiskey. He had just told the barkeeper what his team wanted when the door opened behind him. An instinct let him turn his head to see if the new guest was a threat or not. 

 

No, the man in the door was no threat. His red hair glanced in the setting sun, he looked like he would wince at any loud noise, every fast movement. On his nose sat glasses, badly repaired with tape. No, the man was definitely no threat, but that didn't mean that his only appearance didn't make Sebastian's skin too tight. Sebastian's nerves switched over to soldier mood and he straightened himself automatically. 

 

Two big, pale blue eyes sent glazes to the men in the corner, the team, while Kevin sneak off to Sebastian, who grabbed his glass of whiskey. He quaffed the alcohol, watching Jim's slave. 

 

“Hey, Sebastian, is that a friend of yours?” Adam called. The others laughed, but they stopped when Sebastian shook his head.

“No, he is no friend of mine.” His voice was cold as ice. “What do you want, Kevin?”

The slave jerked. “I-I... W-well... Jim... sent me.”

“Obviously,” Sebastian answered. “What does he want?”

Kevin looked nervous to the men in the corner. “I... I should tell you outside.”

“There he could kill me?” Now Sebastian whispered, so just the ginger could hear him. 

“He... he is hurt.”

Sebastian frowned. 

 

Jim was suicidal, he knew, but he wouldn't do anything stupid, would he? Sebastian remembered his boss or ex-boss or whatever with his revolver in his hands. Jim would do something stupid. Jim might be a genius, but at the same time he was one of the stupidest men Sebastian had ever known. And no, his hand was not shaking! He wasn't angry and afraid! He was totally okay! 

 

“Guys, I have to go,” he told the team without looking at them. Ignoring them shouting he left the pub, following Kevin. “I swear to you, if this is a stupid joke of you and Jim, I'll kill you both.” 

The ginger just nodded while he was going to a car. A dark BMW but not the same, with which Jim had kidnapped him the first time they had met. 

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian had suspected Jim to have a mansion in the Bishop's Avenue, so he wasn't surprised when he saw the street sign. Bishop's Avenue was one of the most expensive (if not  the  most expensive) street in London. It lay in the North of Greater London. Great mansions stood there, at least 16 of them were abandoned. The perfect place for a mad criminal mastermind, right? Sebastian smiled sadly. 

 

He knew why he was there. Jim knew, that Sebastian missed him, that he felt responsible for him. The sniper felt like an insect in a spider's net, unable to free himself. The look Kevin gave him from the rear mirror said the same, not that the ginger was better. Maybe he was even worse. 

 

“You could still go.”

Sebastian grinned at him. “Jim would find and kill me.”

“Maybe the death is nicer.”

“How long do you work for him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you seem to know him very long and still you didn't kill yourself.”

Kevin shrugged. “Maybe I'm just a coward.”

“No, you are definitely a coward.” Sebastian smiled again. 

 

The ginger was silent again. He stopped the car in front of a white mansion, bigger than everything Sebastian had ever seen. The ex-soldier couldn't even imagine how expensive the building had to be. 

 

He got out of car, not waiting for Kevin. Jim wouldn't want that the ginger was following him. Not because he was jealous or something, but Sebastian knew he didn't like his little slave much, he would avoid him as much as possible. So Sebastian went alone to the door, where he ringed the bell. Just a few seconds he had to wait, till it opened. 

 

Jim stood for him just in a shirt (a rare look), his right hand lay in a sling, the black hair was a mess; it stuck out in all directions. He looked so damn sexy that Sebastian could barely hold himself not to kiss him roughly. 

 

“Fuck you, Jim!” He shouted instead. 

The criminal mastermind just smiled at him.

“You manipulative little bastard! I swear to God, I'll kill you someday! What do you think you do?!”

“My best man didn't want contact with me, so I asked another one.”

“A rookie, obviously! Don't you think I wouldn't read your intention!”

“You are here anyway, aren't you?”

Sebastian stopped himself. A moment he just breathed, before he asked: “How?”

“You think you are responsible for me. You want to make it up, that you couldn't save your friend.”

“Don't you dare talk about him,” Sebastian whispered. 

Jim laid his healthy hand on his cheek. “Stop being so pathetic,” he ordered almost softly, before he slapped Sebastian. The ex-soldier grimaced with pain. “And don't you dare to quit your job again! Because  _ I  _ swear that  _ I _ will kill  _ you _ the next time.”


	36. 11th June 2007, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim watches a special person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I skipped a chapter, so you get two today. Thanks like always to nitininha, the gang and the readers!

**Chapter 35: 11** **th** **June 2007, London, England, United Kingdom**

It was eight minutes past six ante meridiem. In a few seconds Sebastian would come to him into the home office, wondering if he hadn't slept again. Of course he didn't. Sleep was boring. He moved his food against the chair. His chin lay on his knees while he was listening to Sebastian, who opened the door quietly, as though Jim would sleep. 

 

“You haven't slept again, Jim.” It wasn't a question; ages ago Sebastian had stopped asking. 

“Hm,” Jim made. He turned his head around, so he could see his tiger. 

 

The tiger-tattoo on his flank moved when the American stepped to him. He gave the monitors a curious look. Of course he did. They showed student digs. Usual student digs. Chaotic yes, but still ordinary, almost. 

 

In the middle of one room sat a man in an armchair. A leather belt was around his left arm while he cooked something on a spoon with a lighter. 

 

“What does he do?” Sebastian stood directly behind Jim now.

“Cocaine, obviously.”  
“Obviously,” he repeated knowing exactly that it would make Jim smile. “Why are you watching a junkie? Do you want a new pet?”  
Jim laughed. “You are jealous.” It wasn't a question. 

 

He knew that Sebastian was always jealous of his other pets; that was one reason Jim visit them when Sebastian was in another country. He hated cat fights. When Sebastian was around, he was enough to satisfy Jim, so he didn't need the others.

 

“But no, he isn't a new pet.”  
“So, what is he?”  
“Do you really want to know?”  
Sebastian smiled his shark smile. “Of course. Shall I kill him?”

 

Jim's fingertips met the fingertips of his other hand, so his hands looked like pyramids out of flesh, muscles and bones. “No,” he said slowly, watching the man in the monitor while said one took a syringe and got the fluid from the spoon into it. With the precision of a doctor the man injected the cocaine into his vein. 

 

“He is lucky, you know, Sebby?”  
“Because he is a fucking junkie who has your interest?”  
“No,” Jim laughed. “No, no, no! He uses cocaine, not heroin. Heroin is deadlier, 20 times deadlier to be correct. You see, he had a very, very bad day yesterday. A friend of him... well, I said friend, let us call him... a caregiver. Yeah, that is the better word, I think. So this caregiver is a cop and the man we are watching at the moment calls himself a Consulting Detective.”  
“He is the good version of you?” Sebastian joked, but Jim didn't smile.

“Yeah, kind of,” Jim answered seriously. It made Sebastian frowning. “Anyway, as a Consulting Detective he needs cases from the police.”  
“The police doesn't consult amateurs.”  
“He is no amateur; it is like you would say I am an amateur! And stop being so obvious! This Consulting Detective has obviously a drug problem, so his caregiver, who is a Detective Inspector, said he doesn't get cases until his little friend gets around this problem. So our Consulting Detective is deadly bored. No nice murder nor another case, just boredom, who wouldn't take cocaine in this situation.”  
“He is really like you?”  
“Very. And he is fucking around. He takes an overdose, not deadly, but... well, he should go to a hospital.”  
“And we are watching, because...?”

“His dealer is one of my man and he informed the DI.”  
“Ah, yeah. Sounds logical for me.”  
“I love when you are sarcastic, darling. Now go and make breakfast.” 

 

Jim knew that Sebastian wouldn't understand him. He never understood the boredom that drove Jim mad. When Sebastian slept, Jim lay next to him, watching the ceiling, trying to stop thinking. Through all these years he was still trying it, though it was impossible. 

 

And then Sherlock Holmes came. Sherlock Holmes was new, well, more or less. He was the man who had been a boy when Jim killed Carl Powers. He had been the only one who had noticed that Powers' shoes had been vanished. His mind was comparable to Jim's. Maybe he was the only one who could be a challenge for Jim. Although Jim would have enjoyed it, if they were on the same side, the fact that Sherlock was on the wrong, on the good side, just made it better. 

 

Now the Consulting Detective lay more than he sat on his chair. The syringe fell from the weak fingers to the ground. You could say a lot of things about Sherlock Holmes, but the way he sat there was kind of sexy. The pale skin, the almost unbuttoned shirt... 

 

After a few minutes someone came through the door. Though the video was monochrome, Jim knew he started to be more grey than black haired. The reaction of the man was to scream at Sherlock first, but he got the control back very fast. He tried to calm the younger man while he was calling the emergency. Oh, he would be furious when he noticed that Sherlock was totally safe.

 

Jim giggled, but stopped when the door behind him opened again.

 

“Breakfast is ready,” Sebastian announced. 

“Which underwear are you wearing, honey?”  
“The... dark blue one. You know, the one you've bought for me for some reason.”  
“But I thought we wanted to eat breakfast.”  
“Eating? Eating is boring, darling, you should know that!”  


Jim turned around with his chair, jumping on his feet, before he went to Sebastian. The ex-soldier just in a nice, tight jeans and without a shirt (Jim could see the waistband of the underwear) looked very hot. 

 

“You have man boobs, tiger,” he purred, when he touched the muscular chest. “I like that you are training more again.”  
“I know, boss,” Sebastian smiled before he leaned forward. 

 

Short before their lips would meet, he stopped, knowing that Jim loved to start a hot kiss. And so the smaller man did. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and hot. Jim's nails dig in Sebastian's back, who groaned into the kiss for pain and lust. 


	37. 11th June 2007, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Today your love, tomorrow the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention this chapter contains BDSM, smut and sex. Thanks to nitininha, to the gang (especially to cubby, whose pet name I used) and to all the other readers. I hope you have fun.

**Chapter 36: 11** **th** **June 2007, London, England, United Kingdom**

The dark blue briefs had been a good choice, Jim thought. They fitted very tight, so he didn't have to use his imagination (of course he could do it, but he loved to see almost everything of his tiger). His small fingers glided around the silver emblem in front of the pants. A roaring tiger for the tiger who shivered under the touch. He didn't expect the touch because Jim blindfolded him with his own blue scarf that Jim loved so much.

 

“Boss,” he whispered needy.

 

Jim ignored it. With his fingertips he followed the seams of the pants from the loin to the legs, which made them shaking. The reaction made him smile.  
  
Sebastian was accustomed to pain, but soft touches drove him mad. Under his fingers Jim could feel Sebastian's erection jerking, the taller man whimpered and he tried to fight the chains, which tied him at the Saint Andrew's Cross at the wall behind him. His tiger was strong, but not strong enough to break the chains.

 

Smiling Jim stepped back. He moved quietly so Sebastian couldn't hear what he was doing. Slowly he walked to the little tables with the toys: A riding crop, a bludgeon and three whips, one with one, but thick cable, one with nine thinner cables, called a cat-o'-nine-tail, and one with 15, a gag, a cock and two ball rings, dildos in three sizes and three vibrators.

 

“You were very possessive today, tiger,” Jim said slowly.

The tied man nodded. “Yes, I was, sir...”

“You know, that you don't own me, right?”

“Yes...”

 

This time Sebastian struggled with the title, and Jim knew exactly why. The first time Jim had demanded it, Sebastian's face had gone pale. Usually he was a good kitty, the ex-soldier, who was used to get orders, but in that moment... He had been surrounded by enemies, he had gotten shot, but it scared the hell out of him to use. This little word: _Daddy_ _._

 

Jim could understand that. Sebastian's father had been abusive, Jim had seen a few scars. Well, he had seen all scars Sebastian had. Every time he touched one, which were made by Augustus Moran, something dark glittered in Sebastian's eyes. Even hate was a word, though was too weak, what Sebastian felt for his father, Jim knew it. Otherwise Sebastian would never call his father _daddy_ _,_ Jim was sure he had never called Augustus Moran so.

 

“Yeah, tiger? I'm listening.”

“No, daddy...” Sebastian would look to the ground when he could look. “...I don't own you...”

“Good boy.” Jim kissed Sebastian hard as a reward. The sniper returned the kiss hungrily, needy. Then Jim stepped back and Sebastian yowled. The Consulting Criminal laughed quietly. “You still have to be punished, darling.”

“Yes... daddy...”  
  
The word sent shivers through Jim's spine. In fact he hadn't known that this little word had so much power on him, but he enjoyed it... He was definitely enjoying it!

 

Slowly and quietly he walked back to the table, watching Sebastian on the cross. The ex-soldier tried to listen to the steps of his boss, but Jim knew he was just too quiet. His head lay awry, when Jim took the cock and ball rings.

 

Like a predator he sneaked to Sebastian. A few steps from him he stopped, so his tiger couldn't feel his body heat and the next touch would be more shocking. Jim got his fingers under the underwear, which made Sebastian sigh. It was more an instinctive reaction than a planned one. Slowly to make it worse Jim pulled the underwear downwards, his fingers wandered about the now naked skin before he broke the contact short before he touched Sebastian's penis. The sniper growled frustrated, but Jim just laughed about it.

 

“So impatient today, tiger.”

 

Finally Sebastian's underwear lay around his ankles. His penis was half erect, so Jim could get the rings around it and the testicles. While he was doing it, he felt how Sebastian's cock grew under his hand, became hard. Just for a moment he laid a hand on his own erection in his suit trousers, pushed a little bit, before he went again to the table.

 

“Left, centre, or right, darling?” He asked, while his hand was floating about the three whips.

 

Of course he didn't use any emotion in his voice. Sebastian had started to become cleverer, he had listened to Jim's voice to guess which whip was which. That was one of the reasons why Jim enjoyed Sebastian's company more than the company of most other pets. He was intelligent enough not to be boring. Of course he was sometimes boring but not as often as the others.

 

“Left,” Sebastian answered after a while. Obviously he had thought about it, had tried to analyse Jim's voice, but the tone in his own voice sounded like he wasn't satisfied.

 

Jim grabbed the cat-o'-nine-tail. Sebastian's chest heaved, oh, he was so excited! Jim's hand touched the cables, his fingers loosened a knot, and then he stood in front of his pet.

 

“Head up,” he ordered because he hated when Sebastian had wounds in his face. Well, he liked it when he was angry, but wounds from sex shouldn't be showed in the face, should they?

 

Jim struck out, his arm and the whip whizzed downwards on Sebastian's chest.

 

“Son of a-,” he hissed.

“Watch your tone, cubby.”

Sebastian gave him a sharkish smile. “That's new.”

“Do you like it?”

“Not really.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, it's not your business to decide that!”

 

He struck out again, let the whip whiz regions under the chest, the stomach first, then the loin. One, two, three, four times. Every time the cables met the skin, Sebastian winced lightly, almost imperceptible. His lips parted. A quiet growl left his throat, mixed with lust and pain. The naked penis was fully erect now, Jim thought about touching his tiger again, hearing him moaning... But no, he had been possessive today!

 

“So you like the pain, don't you?”

Sebastian nodded weakly.

 

Jim replaced the whip with the bludgeon. He tested the weight, because he hadn't used this one before, he made two practice blows before he finally used it on Sebastian. With all the strength of his arms he struck him in the stomach. The struck one tried to grab some fresh air. Saliva dropped over his strong, square jaw. Though his body was fully strained, it didn't have a negative effect on Sebastian's penis. In fact, Sebastian’s heavy breathing sounded painful, yes, but there was something else in it. With the bludgeon Jim lifted Sebastian's chin.

 

“Kinky, little tiger,” he smiled. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, sir. Please, boss.”

 

The Irish man licked his lips before he struck out again. Again. Again. Again. And still it seemed like it wasn't enough. For both of them. Red spots grew on Sebastian's skin, in a few minutes they would become blue. At the end Jim didn't remember how often he had beaten Sebastian. They were both breathless when he could finally stop. Sebastian's legs shook, pre-cum came from his penis. It was obvious, that he couldn't stand much longer, so Jim freed him from the chains and tied the ex-soldier to the cross.

 

“We... aren't ready.” Usually Sebastian didn't sound like this... not exactly weak, more tired and quiet.

Jim smiled. “We'll finish in bed.”  
  
Fortunately he had decided months ago that they should have a bed in his hobby room. Often enough he and his pets had used it already. Sometimes, when Sebastian was very tired, because he had been in another country and had a jet lag, he fell asleep there, while Jim was ever going in his own room or the home office. After Sebastian slept two or three hours at those days, he left the house without saying a word. Except yesterday.

 

Anyway, now Jim got his tiger to the bed, who grabbed his shirt as he had barely sat. Sebastian was actually so impatient, he pulled at it till the buttons hurtled. Usually Jim himself would hate that, but he wanted to get undressed as fast as possible. Few seconds later his trousers landed at the fucked up shirt, the expensive briefs followed.

 

“Lie down!” Jim ordered.

 

Of course Sebastian did, stretching the legs a little bit, so Jim could sit down between them. What the criminal mastermind directly did. Sebastian grabbed his neck, pulling him to him, body to body. They kissed passionately, roughly with tongues and teeth, while their bodies were rocking against each other. Jim felt the claws of his tiger, they dug in his back, until he got his hands away and pushed them to the mattress above Sebastian's head. The ex-soldier could fight back, he would win. Just from the physique he was stronger than his boss, but he didn't do it, so Jim needed just one hand to keep the arms where they were. The other one he held in front of Sebastian's face.

 

“Lick.”

 

Their cocks jerked when Sebastian's tongue touched Jim's fingertips. His tongue circulated around the fingers before Jim whispered “suck” and the tiger took them into his mouth. His mouth felt warm and wet and perfect. Jim groaned suppressed. He felt Sebastian's tongue again at his fingers while the sniper was following the order and sucked at them. Just few seconds later Jim freed them again to disperse the Sebastian's saliva in his cock. After he did that, he freed his tiger from the cock and testicle rings, before he fucked him.

 

Because he didn't prepare the tiger, his ass was tight. Again Sebastian wanted to dig his nails in Jim's back, but now his boss reacted earlier. He pressed his arms back on the bed. While he rocked his hip against Sebastian's, getting deeper in him. Sebastian growled, it was always his kind of groaning. It always sounded beastly like the tiger Sebastian could be.

 

Both didn't need long to come. Their foreplay was usually so good, that they never came long after Jim was finally in Sebastian.

 

Jim's cock struck a few times Sebastian's prostate, every time Sebastian got even tighter around him. He moaned, Sebastian growled. And then it was over. Jim fell onto the bed next to Sebastian. Out the bedside table he got a package of cigarettes, because they both loved the cigarette after or the cigarette before Sebastian would go again. Jim had an idea when he took the first drag, while Sebastian was still lighting his own.

 

“You could stay here,” he said after a few seconds.

Sebastian laughed. “Are we in the cuddle mood today?”

“No, it's just stupid when you are going home just to come back in a few hours and you slept here yesterday, too.”

“Because I was fucking tired.”

“Your flat is a mess.”

“I don't have enough stuff to have a messy flat.”

“A reason more to stay.”

“Is it about this guy? This _Consulting Detective_?”

“Don't be stupid!”

Silence, then Sebastian sighed. “Okay, I stay.”

Jim smiled. _“_ _Today your love, tomorrow the world,_ _”_ he hummed.

“...if you stop quoting Metallica.”  
  
Jim noticed that Sebastian avoided the subject love, but it was okay like it was. And it was so damn good. Tiredness conquered his body and it was the first time, he fell asleep next to Sebastian. He heard the tiger bark a laugh.


	38. January 23th 2008, Saint Petersburg, Northwestern Federal District, Russia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually Sebastian isn't the guy, who works in a team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like with the Irish parts, the German parts are translated at the end. Of course Sebastian's German is not perfect (it bases of Michael Fassbender's German in "Inglourious Basterds"). Thanks to nitininha for correcting the text, to the gang for being awesome and all the other readers for reading.

**Chapter 37: January 23** **th** **2008, Saint Petersburg, Northwestern Federal District, Russia**

_“Do you know the fairy tale about Hänsel and Gretel?”_

“Eh...”

 

Sebastian was a little bit surprised. Not about the subject. In the most impossible situations Jim started to talk about fairy tales. The ex-soldier didn't know why, he just knew that Jim did that. It was more surprising how Jim spoke the names. He had paid a few language courses for his sniper. One of it had been German. Surprisingly, Sebastian had found out that he was talented in languages, Jim had said, because he was listening. He could distinguish accents and so he heard that Jim said the names in a perfect German, although people who had English as their native language always had problems with the r and the last e in Hänsel and Gretel.

 

“Yeah... of course I do, but -!”

_“They were also two and that was the reason why they survived,_ _”_ _Jim broke in on him._

“That doesn't mean... Jim, I'm not a team player, you know that.”

_“Maybe you should just try it! You could be surprised!”_

“Tigers don't hunt in groups.”

_“_ _Except they are little_ _.”_

“I'm fucking 30 years old, I kill people for money since I'm 18, so stop telling me I'm a kid.”

_“_ _Oh, but you never had the chance to hunt in a family, did you?”_

“What are you talking about?”

_“_ _You'll see.”_

 

The contact was disconnected. Sebastian stared out of the window to the city under him, sitting on a too soft, too big bed. He hated it when Jim decided where he should sleep, because Jim always chose the luxury hotels. It was night and the only thing Sebastian could see were the lightened windows of other buildings. High ones, short ones.

 

He remembered the first time he had had such a view from Boston. It had been in a hotel, it had been with Jim. Sebastian clenched his jaw, shaking his head. He had to be ready in half an hour. Showered, hair dried and dressed into a suit. Look fancy tonight , Jim had said, like Sebastian was a whore who had to look perfect for a special client. To be honest, the ex-soldier felt like a whore paid by Jim, but borrowed to someone else. Usually it wouldn't be a problem. Sebastian worked for everyone if they payment was good and Jim made the plans, but nothing made him more nervous then when Jim didn't give him the plan directly, when his boss had a secret about a job.

 

Anyway, he got ready. He showered, brushed his hair, used a little bit of styling gel, so from his soldier view long hair didn't fall into his eyes. It fell in waves into his neck, dark blond as always. At the end he got dressed. A black smoking, just good enough for the hotel.

 

He would meet his _date_ (so Jim had called it) at the bar of the hotel. She, at least he knew it was a she if Jim didn't want to trick him, would wear a brooch in form of a magpie. Jim's heraldic animal, Sebastian's words not Jim's.

 

Three minutes before he should arrive, he stood at the bar. Everything there was so classy, a lot of wood, which reminded him a little bit of old-schooled pubs. There were leather couches and armchairs in the lounge area, one of the wooden walls was full of pictures and the bar was decorated with colorful glass. It was too sappy for him, but he couldn't have chosen the place of the meeting.

 

Sebastian ordered a fancy whiskey before a woman entered the room. She was wearing a purple dress, above it a black fur, not real, so he doubted she was Russian. Her hair was light blond, but he could see it was dyed, because the hairline was too dark. Hair pins controlled the wavy hair. Slowly, the room observing she went to the bar, where he got his whiskey. She didn't move like most women, she moved like a predator. He knew that she was his date, before he saw the brooch. And then their eyes met. Sebastian fought a shiver back.

 

Her eyes had the same color as his, but he was used to see his own eyes in the mirror, he was used to see the same look his father always gave him. This woman glanced at Sebastian in the same way, and he wasn't used to it, but then she smiled. It was a surprisingly warm smile. Her teeth were white and straight like a cemetery. Usually Sebastian would think she was attractive, but still her eyes made him uncomfortable.

 

“So we finally meet, Sebastian Moran,” she smiled while she gave him her hand.

 

It was smaller than his everything was smaller in this woman. She was maybe 5,35 feet tall, Jim would know it exactly. Prey for most men, but she decided to be a predator. Sebastian didn't doubt that she wore a garter with at least one knife under her dress.

 

“So you heard about me?” He asked her. “Do you want something to drink?”

“The whiskey you have there,” she answered pointing at his glass, “and... well, I inform me now and then.”

Sebastian ordered the whiskey before he looked back to her. “So, who are you now?”

“You can call me Sissy.”

“Okay, Sissy, I'm Sebastian.”

“Yeah, I've already heard, that I shouldn't call you Sebby.”

“You are very well informed.”

“ _He_ warned me directly.”

 

Yeah, that sounded like Jim, though Sebastian was embarrassed that Jim was so possessive in front of other people. Usually he wasn't, because someone could think that Sebastian was Jim's weakness, and try to use it, so why was Jim so careless with this woman?

 

“Okay, what is the job about?”

“Right, behind us a German pander sits, he paid a human trafficking ring to get him new girls. He made the deposit, but never gave the rest of the money.”

Before Sebastian went to the bar, he had watched the people who were already there. That the man behind them was a pimp was too obvious. His white suit was fancy, no question, the first button was open and around his neck a golden chain glanced, at five of his ten fingers he was wearing rings with big diamonds, rubies and emeralds.

 

“You get his trust,” Sissy continued, “talk with him, be nice and tomorrow you will knock at his door pretending you are drunk.”

“Why me?”

“He is gay.”

“Oh.”

“And you distract the bodyguard?”

“Obviously.” She smiled.

Sebastian took his whiskey, leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Louder than before he said: “Good night, Sissy. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“You play the brother card,” she whispered, “clever boy.”

“Thanks.”

“Good night,” she replied to his official announcement, before she turned around and went out of the bar.

 

Sebastian himself turned around to the table behind him. In a green, leather armchair the pimp sat, looking at his phone. Prey. With long steps and his most charming smile Sebastian went to him. The chair in front of the pimp was empty, so he pointed at it when he asked:  
  
“May I sit?”

The pimp looked up. Sebastian felt his gaze at his face, wandering around his body before he nodded. So the ex-soldier sat down, he took a sip from his whiskey. The liquid burnt lightly in his throat, but not as much as the cheap rotgut his old man used to drink.

 

“Are they real?” He asked, still smiling. If the man wasn't already on Jim's death list, he would be now, Sebastian knew.

The pimp followed the pointing of Sebastian to his own rings. “Never seen real diamonds?” He asked doubtfully.

“Na, I'm just a stupid heir. My father died a few months ago, had never seen him, but he gave me all his money when he died, and that was a lot,” Sebastian lied without batting an eye. “Thought I should make a vacation to Russia. I know, it's not of my business, but your accent isn't Russian, is it your first time here?”

“Oh no, no...” The pimp hesitated a moment. “I'm often here. For work.”

“Oh, well, the first lecture in the billionaires club was never asked what someone does, so I asked you where you come from, instead.”

The pimp laughed. “Don't you wanna know my name first?”

Sebastian pretended to be embarrassed: “Oh yeah, of course, sir, I'm sorry,” he knew that men like the one in front of him liked it to be called _sir_ , “I'm Sebastian, what's your name?”

“Klaus.”

“That's German.”

“Quite right.”

“Then... Guten Abenn, sir.”

“You speak German?”

“Nicht perfekt, wie Sie sicher an meinem R und meinem Problem mit dem D am Ende hören, aber die Grammatik is mir geläufig.”

“Ich habe andere schon schlechter Deutsch reden hören,” the pimp explained smiling. “You have an English accent, are you from Britain?”

“No, ich bin Amerikaner.”

“A great country.”

Sebastian smiled about the comment. “Yeah, it is, isn't it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Guten Abenn, sir.” (“guten Abend”) = “Good evening, sir.”  
> “Nicht perfekt, wie Sie sicher an meinem R und meinem Problem mit dem D am Ende hören, aber die Grammatik is mir geläufig.” = “Not perfect, like you can hear at my r and my problem with the d at the end, but I'm familiar with the grammar.”  
> “Ich habe andere schon schlechter Deutsch reden hören.” = “I've heard others talking a worse German.”  
> “No, ich bin Amerikaner.” = “No, I'm American.”


	39. February 6th 2008, Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a good job a good drink is great until you talk with people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation is exceptionally here, because it's just one sentence:  
> “Ich habe eine Pistole auf Ihre Eier gerichtet. An Ihrer Stelle wäre ich also ganz leise.” = "I aim at your balls with my pistol. So I would be very quiet at your place."  
> Thanks to nitininha and the rest of the gang and to all the readers. And sorry, that I didn't post anything yesterday, private problems.

**Chapter 38: February 6** **th** **2008, Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom**

A bullet struck the wall behind which he hid, to his right, but at the moment he was the distraction and they stepped into the trap like rookies. They were six, a corrupt politician, a banker who knew too much or didn't pay his debt, and their bodyguards. The shootings stopped and Sebastian took the opportunity to get his rifle to his shoulder, to aim and to shoot one of the men while the others were loading their own weapons. When they were ready, Sebastian hid again behind the wall, waiting for the shootings of his partner.

 

Jim had been impressed from his teamwork with Sissy. Like she or he had planned, he had gone to Klaus a night after their talk while Sissy had been flirting with the bodyguard. With loosened tie he had stood at the door when Klaus opened it. The pimp had tried to protest when Sebastian had just come in. To stop him from being loud Sebastian had kissed him while he had pressed his gun with the suppressor against Klaus' crotch.

 

“Ich habe eine Pistole auf Ihre Eier gerichtet. An Ihrer Stelle wäre ich also ganz leise,” Sebastian had said, before he shot him.

 

The next time Sissy and he had worked together was just a week ago: He had played Moriarty, she was his fiancée and Jim was his clerk in a meeting. It had been in one of Jim's restaurants, so they had had their own room. Sissy and Sebastian had had exact instructions when they should've started to shoot the members of the tong they had talked with. Sebastian in his role as Moriarty had made a few offers and after they had refused all, Jim had told him he had shot the first under the table. Jim himself still in the role of a clerk had jumped away from the table, pretending he had been scared, although the tongs hadn't had weapons with them. At the end they had let one of the tong go, so he could've told his bosses what happened.

 

Jim anyway had been very happy. He had brought Sissy to her hotel in London before he had told Kevin, who was still his utility man, that he should've driven Sebastian and him to his mansion in the Bishop's Avenue. They had driven with a sedan so Jim could have crawled on Sebastian's lap and kissed him roughly.

 

Tonight they wouldn't have post-job sex because Jim was still in London while Sebastian had this fucking job in Edinburgh. Maybe it was better at the moment... When Sebastian had left the house this morning, he had seen the moving van at the gate way. It hadn't been full, to be honest it had been fucking empty, but the helper had brought things in the house, not from the house, and into the van.

 

 _Thought your things would be safer at my place_ , Jim had written. So it was official now, they lived together. Not that they hadn't before. Sebastian had just been in his flat when he had needed clean clothes. Still. It made him uncomfortable to know that it was official now.

 

He pulled the thought aside when the bodyguards stopped shooting to load their weapons again. When he shot one of them now, someone behind them shot, too. He didn't have to see the small figure of Sissy to know it was her. Together they killed the targets very fast.

 

~Φ~

 

“We shouldn't do that,” he said for the third or fourth time, when they stood at the bar.

Sissy next to him laughed. “I don't want to be lay by you, Sebastian.” She quaffed her scotch and it wasn't a little bit feminine. Her glass banged at the bar.

“Why not? I'm an attractive man.”

“And I'm an attractive woman, do you wanna fuck me?”

 

He looked at her. She still dyed her hair brighter than it was, her eyes still reminded him at Augustus Moran and she was still beautiful, but no. He didn't want to fuck her. The ex-soldier took a sip of his own scotch.

 

“Thought so.” She smiled. “How was Boston?”

He almost choked on his whiskey. “W-What?!”

“You came from Boston. How was it?”

“Why do you ask?”

Sissy didn't look at him, when she answered: “I was born there, lived there the first four years of my life.”

“And then?”

“My mother died.”

“Oh.” Sebastian knew he should say he was sorry, but he wasn't. He never had had a mother, he didn't know, how it felt to lose a mother. Was it really so hard? Thinking about Augustus he thought it couldn't be so hard.

“My aunt took me to her. My father wasn't really the kind of a man who should bring a kid up.”

Sebastian laughed into his scotch. “Know this kind.”

“I know,” she just said, but it made him even more nervous. The only one who knew about it was Jim...

“Okay, why did he tell you that?!” Sebastian snapped.

She looked surprised at him. “He...”

“It's not his or your business, so fuck off!” Now he shouted.

Her face changed, it went totally blank. Deadpan. “It is.”

“Oh no, it's fucking not!”

“Sebastian, I'm Elizabeth.”

He stared at her. “Yeah, your name is Elizabeth, and?!”

“No, you don't understand! I'm Elizabeth, I was born in Boston, I lived there for four years, my mother died when she gave birth to my brother. My aunt took me because my father shouldn't bring a kid up, but he did anyway, my brother...”

He had quaffed his whiskey while she was talking, threw the money for the drinks at the bar and then he ran out of the bar.

 

~Φ~

 

He had driven for hours. From Edinburgh to London in one night was hard enough when you hadn't slept enough like him and the alcohol in his blood didn't make it better. Anyway, when he stood in the entrance of Jim's house, he just felt angry.

 

"Jim!” He shouted, knowing that the little bastard wouldn't sleep. It was rarely enough and sometimes it worried Sebastian, but not at the moment. “Jim, come here you fucking bastard! Don't you dare to ignore me tonight, because I swear to all gods the humans always invented, that -!”

 

Jim was wearing his pajama pants, no shirt, his hair stuck out in all directions and he looked like he had actually been asleep. Still he didn't look angry, more tired. He looked so innocent that Sebastian doubted that it was real. Jim was a master of illusions, why should it be different today?

“You knew it, didn't you? That's why you let us work together, why you didn't mind that I kissed her on the cheek in Saint Petersburg. Fuck, I should have known.” Sebastian hid his face in his hands, rubbed his eyes, he was tired and angry and drunk.

“I thought you would like it.” Still no anger, boredom lay in Jim's voice and it made Sebastian angrier.

 

He got his pistol out, walking to Jim, and pressed it on his forehead. It was the first time that he had this power over Jim, he could decide whether his boss died or lived, though he already knew what he would decide. Their eyes met. Sebastian looked into the ultimate darkness of Jim's.

 

“I fucking hate you,” he whispered when he lowered his gun.

Jim just smiled. “Come to bed, tiger, I wanna sleep.”  
  
He took Sebastian's hand, who didn't fight back. The ex-soldier let Jim pull him to the bedroom. _Their bedroom_ , Jim's voice in his head said.

 

When they lied down, Sebastian did something he never did before: He wrapped his arms around Jim and laid his head on the flat stomach of his boss. Jim stroked the blond hair of the sniper till the tiger fell asleep.


	40. May 12nd 2009, Bandhavgarh, Madhya Pradesh, India

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day off in India.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone, who will be surprised in this chapter: please read the first chapters and a special invitation again, because, yeah, I planned that the whole time. Thanks to nitininha, to the gang and to all the readers.

**Chapter 39: May 12** **nd** **2009, Bandhavgarh, Madhya Pradesh, India**

Sebastian took a deep breath. After the days in Delhi, where Jim and he had worked, the air here seemed incredible clear, although it was still too hot for most Western Tourists who sat with him in the jeep. But the heat reminded him of Afghanistan and he felt that he had missed it. He loved the feeling of the sun burning his skin, although he was wearing sun blocker. Anyway he took a big sip from his water bottle. Afghanistan had taught him that drinking was the most important thing when you were in a hot country. 

 

Unfortunately the heat was also the reason why he was alone now. Jim had stayed in their luxury hotel to  work . Though Jim did everything to look totally normal, Sebastian couldn't ignore that his boss resigned to wear the jackets of his beloved suits. More often than ever before Sebastian had seen Jim just in a shirt here in India. So Sebastian hadn't asked twice if Jim wanted to come with him to a safari in the Bandhavgarh-Nationalpark. Maybe he was even happy that he had a day off. 

 

It was rare enough, wasn't it? Jim just thought that people had to work as much as him, because otherwise they would be bored. It was annoying, especially when Jim forgot that Sebastian was a normal human-being who needed food and sleep. Well, to be fair, mostly Sebastian forgot that he was hungry or tired when he did a job. 

 

Sighing he leaned back, watching the nature, the animals, while their guide explained in English with an Indian accent where they could see what. He noticed that he didn't look like a usual tourist. No camera was stuck in his hand, he wore a thin white shirt with sleeves that he had bought in Delhi, and white long, but loose pants because he knew how dangerous the sun could be, while the other tourists all were wearing sleeveless or at least t-shirts and shorts because of the heat.

 

A woman next to him pointed at a jungle cat, which  sneaked through the high grass. She was maybe five years older than Sebastian; her hair was dyed blond, just like Sissy's. 

 

He shouldn't think about her. The last time they had met, they had had a big fight. She had tried to act like a sister, although they didn't know each other. Elizabeth had grown up in New York at their aunt's place, who had paid a private school for her beloved niece. When Elizabeth had been old enough to understand that she had a little brother who might still be at her father's place, she hadn't searched for him. She hadn't helped him. 

 

And it should have been okay that he had been angry because she had lied at him, well, or hadn't told him the whole truth when they had met for the first time. Still, he had had the right to know about her, him, them... Anyway she had tried to hug him, but he had stepped back, avoiding her touch. 

 

They had met in a pub on Saint Paddy's day this year. Not for one moment Sebastian had thought that it had been a coincidence. She was too good for it. 

 

“Is everything okay?” She had asked smiling.

“Yeah, yeah,” he had lied, “of course everything is fine.”

“Good, are you alone here?”

“I... yeah.”

“So you won't mind if I join you?”

“No.” Another lie.

 

And while they had stood at the bar, drinking beer, whiskey and Guinness, she had talked about their aunt, who had been like a mother to her. She had died two years ago. Anyway, she had sent Elizabeth to a private school. Sissy had made close combat and fencing courses there, learned languages and so she had been qualified to join a special unit with the acronym a.g.r.a. She hadn't said much more. Sebastian hadn't cared anymore to be honest.

 

He had broken in on her: “You had never searched for me?”

She had blinked confused. “Well, I thought... you were in the children's home and...”

“He got me back!”

“W-What? Auntie Ellie had never -!”

“Oh, for fuck's sake she never cared about me!”

Sissy had stared at him. “But, now... now we are together like a family.”

“You aren't my family, don't you understand? I never had a sister, but I had two brothers! They cared about me, about a strange Afghan boy and about kids from different parents, and you?! You didn't even care for your family, for your brother!” He had left her there at the bar.

 

A few days later Jim had told him she had vanished. Sebastian hadn't been even surprised. In fact he had been happy because he had hated her eyes so much, that she thought they would be a family. He was too old for this shit. Long time ago he had hoped she would have saved him, but now he didn't feel anything for her. 

 

After she had vanished, everything had gone normal again. Even Sebastian's and Jim's relationship, thank God. 

 

The guide got a message through the radio receiving set and Sebastian knew without listening what it was about. The elephants they sent through the park everyday to find tigers had found something. The other people didn't even seem to notice it, till the guide said:  
  
“We have found a tiger close to our group. We will drive there now and continue the safari later.”

 

And this was the moment Sebastian was really happy that Jim wasn't around. He felt again like a child in the zoo, except they weren't in a zoo, they were in the motherfucking nature. Suddenly he couldn't help himself, he had to smile. 

 

Finally they were there, their jeep was the only one there. Just the group with the elephant was there too. The Bengal tiger looked doubtfully at them when they stopped in front of him. He seemed like he had lay in the sun, but now he looked confused at the humans. Sebastian could understand that very well, but still he wanted to touch this creature, what other people called a beast centuries before Sebastian was born. It didn't look like beast through. More like a big cat. 

 

Now Sebastian took a photo smiling. He would show it to Jim and then he would kiss him for this opportunity, though his boss would say he was pathetic and sentimental. Of course this whole trip to Bandhavgarh was just another trick to commit Sebastian more to Jim. Still it was a nice trick. 


	41. 25th March 2010, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night shift is boring, but fortunately Jim has something to distract himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation at the end based of Molly's blog of course ( http://www.mollyhooper.co.uk/blog/25march ) and the information about Molly's job based on this http://wellingtongoose.tumblr.com/post/68816603719/why-miss-molly-hooper-would-be-a-surgeon . As always thanks to nitininha for correcting the text, to the gang for being so lovely (especially the last days, sorry for my bad mood at the moment) and to all readers, every kudo I get makes me happy, this is what writers live for.

**Chapter 40: 25** **th** **March 2010, London, England, United Kingdom**

“Night shift, hm?”

 

Sebastian stood in the door frame. Jim knew it without looking at him. His sniper loved to stand totally cool in door frames, it was so ordinary, and still it was a habit Jim could deal with, especially when Sebastian came back from work in a sleeveless shirt, sweat and blood over it. It was kind of hot.

 

“Obviously,” Jim answered bored.

 

He felt that Sebastian was watching him while he got dressed in those ordinary and cheap clothes (well, most people would think they weren't cheap).

 

“Are you going after sweet Molly tonight?” The ex-soldier asked with studied casualness.

Jim rolled his eyes while he got into his tight jeans. Yes, he knew that Sebastian looked at his ass, of course he knew it. He also knew that Sebby was jealous of Molly. “Yes.”

“Hm, I wonder if she’ll like the detail with the underwear, too.”

“Kinky bastard.”

Sebastian barked a laugh. “Jim from IT is cute, I would fuck him.”

“Unfortunately he fucks you.”

“No, no, the _real_ Jim is fucking me.”

“The _real_ Jim? Seriously, Bastian?” Jim turned his head to his sniper, who grinned and took a sip from his beer bottle.

“Yes,” the ex-soldier answered, while he was walking to Jim slowly.

 

He was taller than Jim, 0,32 feet to be exactly, ten centimetres. Jim had to look up to him when his tiger stood directly in front of him. The sniper was warm like always, Jim could feel the heat of his body. Sebastian smiled his sharkish smile before he leaned forward to kiss Jim. It was the first time he took the initiative, that he started a kiss. Just a few inches, before their lips met, Jim grabbed his chin and held him in this position, but the grin didn't vanish.

 

“Do you want to be punished?” Jim asked, his voice dangerously deep.

“Always, boss.”

Jim's grab got tighter. “Unfortunately I have to go now, but you do your best to be prepared when I come home.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

~Φ~

 

There was a reason why the night shift was also known as _graveyard_ shift. Except for the fans of computers everything was silent. Deadly silent. Jim sighed. He tapped his fingers to the rhythm of English Suite Number 2 by Johann Sebastian Bach. Deadly silent and deadly boring.

 

Well, he could look what _sweet Molly_ (like Sebastian called her) was doing. With a few mouse clicks, one, no, two passwords and he could see what was going on her computer. Ah, she wrote on her blog again. Probably about Sherlock or her cat, what was the name? Tom? Probably like the cartoon cat or had that been the mouse?

 

He thought about getting a cat, too, or even better a real tiger. Sebastian would be delighted. Of course he would be angry at first, but Jim remembered how his tiger came back from his trip through the Bandhavgarh-Nationalpark. Sebastian had looked so young, not that he usually looked old, but... well, his face had looked like of a little boy.

 

Anyway back to Molly:

  _Oh!! How can I delete this?! I meant to say 'you-know-who' not his name!!  
Don't read this! Nobody read this! _

_Molly Hooper 26 March 00:12_

 

She commented on her own blog. Jim smiled. It wasn't something new; he already knew everything about the blog and little Molly.

 

Molly Hooper was a surgical trainee, doing her doctorate in philosophy, who had passed the MRCS, the surgical “entrance exam”. After a tradition, which had its origins in the 18 th  century, she had lost her title of Doctor and instead became Miss, though she could marry, she would never be called Mrs. To be more correct: She was an orthopaedic surgeon in trainee. Though she looked so boring with her brown hair, mostly she had a ponytail, and then her fangirling over Sherlock - that was just gross. And still. Orthopaedic wasn't just dominated by men, it was also one of the hardest surgical areas, because it was about time, decisions were made there in seconds. Molly Hooper could be very tough, though Sherlock didn't notice it.

 

And so Jim came to her private life. Like every surgeon in training she had barely the time to have a normal relationship or going out and meet someone new. So it wasn't very surprising that she liked the first man who had contact with her more often than others and who was her type. Tall, dark haired, slender and at the same time athletic, intelligent but obviously gay. If she paid more attention, Molly could see that Sherlock Holmes had more interest in Doctor John Watson, ex-soldier just like Sebastian, but in fact an army doctor, more a healer than a killer, than in her. So, Miss Hooper was single. A lonely woman in her 30s with a cat.

 

Ladies and Gentlemen: Jim from IT.

 Born in Belfast, growing up during the hardest fights between IRA and the British Politicians, moved to London when he had graduated to study Information of Technology before he had gone back to Belfast to work a few years in the hospital, but the dream of London was too strong, so he came back to work at the Saint Bart's Hospital. Jim from IT was 30 years old, single too, but secretly gay (because of it he used the touch with the underwear). He spoke three foreign languages: German, Spanish and French, while the _real_ Jim also spoke Swedish, Russian and other Slavonic languages, Portuguese, Dutch, Chinese, Japanese and Arabic.

 

But why Molly Hooper? The answer was easy. He wanted to see Sherlock before the Consulting Detective would give him the Bruce Partington plans. Sherlock would come in the morgue to see a few bodies and Jim could come in with the excuse he wanted to see his (future) girlfriend. The great Consulting Detective would see a homosexual idiot, not a criminal mastermind.

 

Perfect, but first he had to get Molly.

 

 _Hi, sorry, are you the lady who works in the morgue? The one with the nose?_ _Jim commented on her last blog entry. It was silly of course and dull! Urgh! But she was a silly, dull girl._

He got a text message but didn't read it. Of course it was from Sebby, The sniper probably read the comments on Molly's blog and laughed about it. Yeah, he would be punished very much when Jim came home.

 _Who are you?_ She answered.

 _Sorry! I work in the IT dept. Stupid night shift._ Jim explained honestly, unfortunately she didn't answer for a while, so he asked if everything was alright.

She answered that she felt silly, because she didn't know that someone read her blog and then she asked: _What's wrong with my nose?_

Of course she asked, so he replied: _Nothing. It's a cute nose. I hope you don't mind me saying.  
I'm here all night so I need more coffee. _

Molly replied with an okay.

And finally he asked her if she liked coffee and if she wanted to drink coffee with him.


	42. 26th March 2010, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan goes well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha for correcting the chapters, to the gang for being awesom and all the other readers.

**Chapter 41: 26** **th** **March 2010, London, England, United Kingdom**

Most people would have said a hospital at night was a scary place. Maybe it depended on the nights, but today it was so silent, so dead... Jim loved it at that moment; he loved the silence before the storm. The deadly storm, the big bang! He smiled for himself, until he entered the canteen. 

 

Automatically his body language changed. He didn't walk so straight anymore, his steps became more insecure. Shyly he looked around, but Molly Hooper wasn't there yet, so he went alone to the coffee machine. The kitchen employees didn't work at night. Lucky bastards didn't have to be there when it was so boring.

 

Someone cleared her throat behind him as he grabbed his coffee. Although he had heard her steps, he pretended to be shocked, and the coffee went over his shirt. The hot fluid burnt his skin, something he would have enjoyed, but now he had to play an ordinary bloke. 

 

“Ouch,” he made.

“Oh, sorry, did I scare you?” She sounded really worried. Of course. 

“Oh, oh, no, I'm... just a little bit awkward.” He smiled a little bit. 

“It must hurt.” Molly pointed at his shirt.

“No, it's okay already.” And it was. It had been a few drops, nothing biggie. 

“Oh... okay. Jim, I guess?”

He gave her the left hand, that didn't hold the coffee. “Ah yeah, sorry, I'm Jim from IT.”

Slightly smiling she took his offered hand. “Molly Hooper, I'm working in the morgue.”

“Yeah, the one with the cute nose.” His cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Urm, can I go to the machine?” She asked shyly. 

“Oh, oh, sorry of course.” Jim stepped to the side so he could see her profile. “Have... have you been working for long here?”

She smiled about his awkwardness. Good. “Two years.”

“Oh, can I ask... what do you do exactly?”

“Surgeon in training.”

“Oh, cool. What is your area?”

“Orthopaedic.”

“No way,” he shouted out. “I thought that is a man thing, I mean... Not that women can't be orthopaedic, but... most orthopaedic surgeons are sexist assholes.”

It made her laugh. “Yeah, that's true.”

“You must very good though.”

“I do my best,” she answered quietly, but she was still smiling. 

 

For a while they just stood at the machine, taking a sip from their coffees now and then. Molly looked at him for a few seconds, then she looked away just to repeat it. He copied it, first so that he didn't look, when she was looking, but he came closer to her rhythm and finally their eyes met. They both laughed shyly.

 

“Do... we want to sit?” Jim asked, pointing at the closest table.

She nodded and together they walked to the table. “You are new here, aren't you?” Molly put one of the chairs the cleaners put on the table down, Jim copied her action again.

“Yeah, started a week ago. Couldn't resist London anymore.”

“You are not from here?” They sat down.

“No, I'm from Belfast.”

“Oh, you are Irish?”

“I'm a Prod, the Catholics wouldn't say that I'm Irish.”

“Oh, did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, no, it's just... Ireland, you know?”

“Hm, yeah I guess. But you were in London before?”

“Yeah, for studying.”

“Oh great!”

“Yep,” the  real  Jim would never say that, “I fell in love with it. All those people, the clubs.”

“Yeah, yeah it's nice.” She took a sip from her coffee, hands shaking nervously.

“Where are you from?”

“Bozeat, Northamptonshire. It's just a little village, a bit boring.”

_ Just like you _ _ , _ the real Jim thought. “Well, London is not.”

“You have no idea,” she replied laughing.

Of course he had. Without him London would be much more boring, but he couldn't tell her, so he answered: “Yeah, as a surgeon in training you see much more, I guess?” 

“Oh yeah, I see a lot of violent deaths in the morgue. Oh, maybe not the best subject to talk about.”

“Oh no, it's interesting! Do you work with the police sometimes?”

Molly smiled a little bit again. Her eyes glanced because she thought about this handsome Consulting Detective. “Ah yeah, and not only with the police... I mean, I shouldn't tell you, because I could risk my job, but... do you know Sherlock Holmes?”

“The great Detective? Yeah, I read his friend’s blog and... don't tell me you are working with him?”

She bit on her lower lip to fight the grin back, but it didn't work and it looked very silly. “Yeah, I do.”

“He is so awesome! So clever!”

“Oh yeah, he is, but he can also be very rude, you know?”

“Geniuses. Aren't they all like that?”

Molly seemed to think about that. “I don't know, I don't know so many. Just him.” Her smile got soft. She had to be very much in love with Sherlock Holmes. 

“And how is John Watson?” He tried to change the subject. 

 

Too obvious of course, but planned. Jim took a sip from his coffee. It wasn't a good one, of course not. Cheap enough to get bought by the workers in the hospital. Sometimes, when Jim forgot that they needed something, Sebastian went to buy the stuff they needed. Once he had bought coffee that tasted almost so bad like this one, so Jim had thrown the coffee can on the head of his sniper. Sebastian, the enamoured bastard, had gotten the can from the ground, smiling weakly.

 

“I see you didn't like it,” he had said, throwing the coffee in the trash.

“It's awful!” Jim had snapped.

 

Meanwhile Molly warmed up, she talked about Sherlock. Had she talked about John? A little bit maybe. Now she complained that Sherlock had said something about her lips, but Jim didn't really listened. He was smiling and nodding now and then, so it seemed he was listening. 

 

In his head he drew a map. He planned that he would meet Sherlock as Jim Moriarty for the first time at the pool where Carl Powers died. Everything was perfect, the little trap for Sherlock, John... He licked his lips after he had taken another sip from his awful coffee. Molly watched him, he noticed and he smiled at her.

 

“Can I ask you something... is Sherlock your boyfriend?”


	43. March 27th 2010, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Like a fool I'm failing, failing in a web I'm trapped"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is of course "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" from The Subways (who doesn't know it should listen to it). Thanks to nitininha for correcting the text, the gang still for being awesome and the readers, because you read this story.

**Chapter 42: March 27** **th** **2010, London, England, United Kingdom**

Sebastian stood at the cross. His knees felt weak and it hurt so, so much. Not the beatings with the bludgeon, not the vibrator, which Jim moved now and then to give Sebastian a new sensation. It was that he wasn't allowed to come. Again and again Jim got him on the edge, close to insanity and then he made the cock and testicle rings tighter for a few seconds, so Sebastian couldn't come. It hurt so fucking much. Also it wasn't very helpful that Jim was naked the whole time.

 

Sebastian's boss was hard, but he didn't seem to notice it. His movements were accurate like always, planned. Sweat was running in Sebastian's eyes, so his vision blurred. It burnt.

 

“Have you understood that I don't belong to you, tiger?” Jim asked. His voice dangerously low.

Sebastian wasn't able to answer, so he just nodded.

 

Smiling Jim came to him. The ex-soldier could feel the heat of his master's body, it drove him mad, he needed Jim so fucking hard, in him, above him, dominating him. His chains were loosed by Jim, but Sebastian wasn't able to stand anymore, so he fell against his boss.

 

Jim laughed into his ear. He could feel the hot breath. “Slowly, darling.”

 

He put out the vibrator before he also freed Sebastian from the chains around his feet. Together, Sebastian didn't know how later, they managed to come to the bed. Automatically he wanted to go on his knees, so Jim could take him from behind, but his boss stopped him.

 

“I want to look in your pretty eyes today,” he whispered, and it sent shivers down Sebastian's spine.

 

So Sebastian lay down on his back. His cock was still hard, pre cum let it glance. He felt when Jim's gaze wandered over his body, the almost black eyes didn't show any emotions when Jim lay down between Sebastian's legs. His fingers glided around Sebastian's bare skin down his chest about his stomach to his cock. They burnt and hurt, although they didn't do more than touching Sebastian. And then they finally freed him from the cock and testicle rings. Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief, but Jim broke in on it with a kiss. Their teeth crush into each other, their tongues pressed against each other. It didn't feel comfortable and still it almost made Sebastian come. Jim grabbed his knees and pushed them apart.

 

“Don't you dare to come now, baby.”

“N-No, d-daddy,” Sebastian managed to say.

  
His boss smiled satanically before he pushed his penis into Sebastian. The sniper gasped, his fingers grabbed automatically into Jim's back, his nails dug in his shoulder's white skin. Though he was well prepared from the punishment before, it felt uncomfortable at first. Of course Jim didn't care; he took him hard and faster. When his penis struck Sebastian's prostate, the ex-soldier saw stars in front of his eyes. His nails dug deeper, blood came from the wounds, but exceptionally Jim didn't care. His dead eyes looked at Sebastian, no emotions on his face while Sebastian felt like he would explode any moment. Another strike at the prostate and Sebastian couldn't hold himself anymore. Without getting touched or touching himself he came. Finally he could see a reaction in Jim's face. His boss frowned, his lips parted and with a quiet sigh Jim came in Sebastian.

 

Usually Jim would go out of him now, but instead of it, he took one of Sebastian's hands and licked his own blood from the fingers. The long tongue, which was in Sebastian's mouth a few minutes ago, glided wetly around the fingertips. It sent shivers down Sebastian's spine and he was fancied to get another round.

 

But when Jim had cleaned both hands, he finally got himself out of Sebastian and lay down next to him to his sniper, right hand, whatever.

 

“Do you like her?” Sebastian asked quietly, although he knew he shouldn't.

“Didn't I teach you enough with this lesson?!” Jim growled.

The ex-soldier looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, I'm sorry, sir.”

“Anyway. I have a job for you.”

“Hm, I hope one in London.”

“You are clinging.”

“Sorry, boss.”

“But yeah, it's a job in London. I think we should start our game with Sherlock Holmes.”

“Okay, I guess, those are the plans on my desk?”

 

Sebastian didn't know when, but one day Jim had brought him into one of the rooms he shouldn't have entered before. It was nothing biggie, just a desk, a computer and a chair. It was the room where he should receive Jim's plans when his boss was in another city or country without him. Mostly when Jim had a job for him and he was in London he told himself about it, so it had made Sebastian nervous when he had found the envelope today.

 

“Okay, why did I get the plans on my desk? You usually tell me when -”

“I have a flat.”

Sebastian stared at Jim. “You sound like you leave me.” He grinned, but his heart was bumping too hard.

“Don't be obvious. Of course I'm leaving you someday, probably because I'm so bored with life that I’ll kill myself.”

“Don't say that, Jim.”

“But it's true. I'll kill myself one day. Boom. Dead.”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, come on, Sebby, don't be so pathetic! It's just me!” Jim laughed.

The sniper clenched his fists. “Fuck you.”

“What?”

“Fuck you. Fuck you! FUCK YOU! I don't let you kill yourself!” He sat on Jim's lap now, his fingers clawed again in the white shoulders.

Dead eyes looked at him. “I never wanted you to fall in love with me.”

“Shut up! I don't love you!”

“Oh yes, you do.”

“No, I fucking hate you! I can't love... I can't love you!”

“You. Do!”

 

Suddenly Sebastian got away from Jim, from the bed. Shaking, he searched his clothes. He imagined a man in a body bag. The memory made his legs weak again, but he could feel Jim's gaze in his back, so he couldn't show any weakness. A hole in the head. And then it hit him. He couldn't remember Kevin's face. He didn't see Kevin anymore, it was Jim's face.

 

“Where are you going?” Jim asked when Sebastian was dressed.

“Out. Running around.”

“Sebastian, it's the middle of the night.”

“I don't care!”

“You are sentimental.”

“You knew that I can be sentimental before you hired me.”

“Sebastian.”

“Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! I don't wanna hear it! I'm... I'm going now, I don't know when I come home, okay?!” He couldn't look in Jim's face as he left the room.

 

When he left the house he breathed the fresh night air, while he was putting the earphones to hear some music. The neighborhood was silent, deadly silent. James Hetfield's voice supported his run as well as Serj Tankian's and Joakim Brodén's. He forgot how long he was running, when another song was playing. In fact it was a romantic song, but the text was still perfect for Jim.

 

 _“_ _Like a fool I'm failing, failing in a web I'm trapped and calling_

_Into a thousand million pieces_

_I will shatter if and when she pleases._

_She has a way of making me feel wild_

_Has me feeling just like a child_

_Am I weak or is it just too tempting_

_To see the smile in her eyes unending_

 

_She's gonna leave me paralysed_

_She's gonna leave me terrified_ _”,_ Billy Lunn from The Subways sang.

 

Sebastian flanks hurt, he hadn't breathed well while he was running. His head felt dizzy, and he giggled about a joke he didn't even understand himself. With shaking hands he pulled out his cigarettes.

 

 _“These bloody things will kill you,”_ John Watson would say. The same John Watson who was sitting at the other side now. Well, maybe it was Sebastian who sat at the other side now, the bad side. He lit the cigarette, ignoring Watson's voice in his head. That was what he needed now, so he took a deep drag.

 

Like in the song, he was trapped. Though all this anger that was in him, he wouldn't let Jim down. Not now, not in the future. He saw him in the body bag again. Since he had caught Jim with his revolver that day years ago, he had known how their relationship would end. One of them would die and today he was pretty sure, it wouldn't be himself.

 

_“She's a devil with a KISS KISS BANG BANG_

_Bad blood running through her veins_

_She's a fire with a KISS KISS BANG BANG_

_You will never ever be the same.”_


	44. 29th March 2010, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy is a soldier problem, Jim thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course we all know the famous scene, I wrote here, if not, rewatch The Great Game please.  
> Thanks goes like always to nitininha, because she is my beta, to my gang, because they are awesome, and to all the other readers. I hope you have fun with the chapter.

**Chapter 43: 29** **th** **March 2010, London, England, United Kingdom**

It was dark in the room. Jim sneaked around getting himself undressed and a pyjama for the night, but then he felt a barrel at the back of his head. He breathed slowly, before he tried to disarm the attacker, who took Jim by his wrist to press his arm against his back. It hurt. A sweet pain in the upper arm. His attacker breathed into his ear, but he didn't aim him with a pistol again.

 

“I thought you were in your flat.”

Jim laughed. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Instead I surprised you.”

“Well, you are better than years ago.”

“I learned from the best.” Barking a laugh Sebastian let Jim go, then he turned on the light.

 

He was still smiling. His teeth were white and perfect and he wasn't so dull and wanted to watch musical series. But then the grin vanished.

 

“Do you know where my dog tags are?” Sebastian's voice was dangerously low while he tried to grab Jim's chin, but the Consulting Criminal stepped back. His eyes went smaller as he followed his boss. They glided about Jim's face to his chin down his neck to find what they searched. “Jim.” His voice was now a growl, threatening, beastly.

And Jim couldn't help himself, he smiled. “Yes?” He said innocently with his sing-sang voice.

“Why are you wearing my dog tags?”

“I thought they would be a look to my outfit.”

“Bullshit,” Sebastian snapped.

Jim frowned. “What? They look great at me!”

“Yeah, they do, but you never... you never took them.”

“I'm sure I did.”

“No, you didn't.”

Their eyes meet. Just for a few seconds they stared at each other, then Sebastian turned his face to the left. He could barely look at Jim for a long while, well, as long as he thought Jim hadn't slept. Once Jim had pretended to sleep just to know how long Sebastian could stare at him. It was surprisingly long.

 

“Anyway,” Jim changed the subject, “Should you ever get the brilliant idea to watch Glee, just forget it, okay?”

Sebastian laughed. “Was it that bad?”

“You have no idea! And then she leaned against me, I mean... like... this thing couples do, when they watch telly together. It was disgusting!”

“Poor you.”

“Yeah, you have to make it better.”

The sniper grinned.

 

~Φ~

 

That Molly Hooper forgot everything and everyone when Sherlock was around, she proved it when he followed her. She slammed the door into his face. His nose hurt and he knew that Sebastian would watch him through the three webcams they had installed in the laboratory before Jim started his work here. The Consulting Criminal would have to hear the jokes for weeks.

 

Anyway, when he entered the lab, he saw Sherlock Holmes face to face for the first time after decades. The Consulting Detective was a tall man with dark, curly hair.

 

“Oh, sorry. I didn't...”

Of course Molly stopped him from leaving the room. She wanted to show Sherlock her newest conquest, of course, to make him jealous. “Jim! Hi! Come in! Come in!” She continued.

 

Sherlock's green-grey-blue eyes examined Molly. Heat filled Jim's stomach and he wanted his attention so badly that he had almost screamed at him, but still he was in the role of Jim from IT, a normal bloke. Instead he closed the door and walked to Molly like every boyfriend would.

 

She pointed at Sherlock. “Jim, that is Sherlock Holmes.”

“Ah,” Jim made, walking towards Sherlock.

He didn't listen when Molly tried to introduce John Watson and failed at his name, so he had to introduce himself.

“Hi,” he said watching Sherlock's back, which was in front of him now. “So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly’s told me all about you. You on one of your cases?”

Molly Hooper explained how they met and both giggled, while Jim felt how John Watson was watching. He was as jealous as Sebastian, Jim thought. Maybe a soldier problem.

And then for a short moment Sherlock Holmes looked at him before he returned to look at the scope he had looked before. “Gay.” Jim's heart was bumping so hard.

“Sorry, what?” Molly asked shocked, but Jim was still ignoring her.

“Nothing. Um, hey,” Sherlock finally answered Jim's greeting.

“Hey,” Jim repeated smiling.

 

His hand knocked a metal dish off the edge of the table. He scrambled to pick it up, but put a card with his number under the dish.

 

“Sorry! Sorry!” He giggled nervously.

 

From the corner of his eye Jim could see John face-palming while Sherlock looked in irritation. He put the dish back on the table before he wandered back towards Molly, scratching his arm.

 

“Well, I'd better be off,” he announced. To Molly he said: “I'll see you at the Fox, 'bout six-ish?”

“Yeah,” Molly answered, but she didn't look so happy anymore.

Jim looked to Sherlock. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Molly replied.

“It was nice to meet you,” he said to Sherlock.

“You too.” John answered for the Consulting Detective.

 

When Jim turned around, he smiled to himself. Everything had gone fine.

 

~Φ~

 

“You bumped into the door.”

“Shut up, Moran.”

“You bumped into the door.”

“Sebastian, I swear -!”

The sniper laughed. “You must really hate her.”

“I do. I should let you kill her.”

“Seriously?”

 

Sebastian's grin grew, his eyes glanced. Probably he already imagined how he could kill Molly Hooper and it wouldn't be a nice, painless kill. He was enjoying this.


	45. March 31st 2010, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a well-done job Sebastian finds his boss in the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha, the gang and the readers, and now I'm going to write more!

**Chapter 44: March 31** **st** **2010, London, England, United Kingdom**

The Semtex vest moved with every breath she took. Her blind eyes stared into the air while he aimed her with his rifle. The red dot he was aiming with danced above the vest. She was old, in her 70s or even in her 80s, her face was wet from tears.

 

_She is obviously scared,_ Jim's voice said in Sebastian's head. He was used to it, to have Jim in his head. It wasn't comfortable, but still helpful. There were days only Jim could keep him right. Days he would burn the whole world in the minute Jim would let him do anything, but Jim never did. Not that Jim wouldn't use this mood, he did, whenever he could, but when Sebastian did the job, he came home to Jim, who made tea sometimes (Jim could be incredible domestic before he was out for weeks again). Sometimes he sent Sebastian to the sport room in their basement first, so the sniper could exploit. After one or two hours Jim came to him with the tea and together they sat on one piece of the sport equipment. When Jim was in a very good mood, he sat down at Sebastian's lap, running his strong fingers through the ex-soldier's hair. There was this area behind Sebastian's left ear, where Jim's fingernails always stroked the scalp. It was one of the less not painful touches Jim did.

 

Everyone else would be killed by Sebastian if he tried that. Even Jack would have had his problems with Sebastian if he had tried it. Jim was different. Jim was... Jim. He owned Sebastian, and as Jim's he could barely protest about how Jim treated him. And in fact he liked these rare moments.

 

Through his headset Sebastian could hear the woman in the flat in the building opposite to the building he was in. She fucking whimpered. He hated it when they did that (and most victims whined before he killed them). Of course he didn't feel any sympathy for them, he never did, but it was annoying. It didn't help.

 

Sebastian gripped his rifle tighter. His finger still lay at the trigger. Of course he hadn't been here the last 12 hours, though Jim had wanted it. He wouldn't feel his legs anymore and he had to be fast if the situation should become hotter.

 

His cell told him that Sherlock had solved the case.

 

Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox.

 

Sebastian knew that Jim was involved in all cases his boss gave Sherlock for their game. To example the case Connie Prince: he had seen a file about her, her brother and their house-boy in Jim's home office. A few weeks ago he had heard Jim talking Spanish with a Colombian accent, which would explain the Munkford case, but he didn't know what Jim had done with this Powers kid. Jim himself had been a teenager when that had happened, otherwise... Sebastian had never asked when Jim had started. He didn't even believe he would get a straight answer for that.

 

“He was so... His voice...” The old woman was just saying. She could have lived, but she didn't stop: “He sounded so ... soft.”

 

Sebastian shot and the building exploded. The next day the news would tell 12 people died.

 

~Φ~

 

Humming he opened the door to the living room, but he stopped in the middle of a step because Jim sat on the couch. Apart from Sebastian hadn't expect him to be there (Jim had had a date with sweet Molly earlier this day and shouldn't be back again) he wasn't wearing one of his suits. No, Jim Moriarty, the criminal mastermind, who rules the whole London, was wearing his pajama.

 

“What happened?” Sebastian asked soft.

 

Jim sulked and in this mood he could be deadly if Sebastian wasn't carefully. Even now Jim sent him a glare that could probably kill.

 

“She dumped me.”  
  
A moment they fell into silence. Sebastian had to think who Jim meant, before he realized that Jim could only be talking about Molly. Slowly he walked to the couch, where he sat down next to Jim.

 

“Wasn't... that the plan?” Actually he didn't know if he wanted to hear the answer. He had never been sure if Jim didn't just start to like Molly, although it was a silly thought. Jim didn't like anyone.

“Of course it was.”  
“She hurt your ego.”  
“No, of course she didn't,” Jim snapped and glared at Sebastian like he wanted to kill him. Again.

Sebastian grinned. “You aren't used to the feeling of someone dumping you, are you?”

“Stop grinning or I swear I'll kill you.”  
“No, you won't.”

Another deadly glare, but Sebastian didn't react on it. Instead, he pulled his boss to his lap. Of course Jim fought back, but Sebastian was taller and stronger, so he could hold his boss until said one stopped fighting.

 

“I should kill you,” he whispered, his voice dangerously low.

The ex-soldier kissed Jim's neck. “No, you shouldn't.”  
“What are you doing, Moran?”  
“Kissing you, obviously.”  
“Why?”  
“You were just dumped. And I just killed an innocent old lady. I want to make it better.”  
“Are you sentimental about that?”  
“Don't be obvious,” Sebastian imitated his boss.

“You are stupid.”  
“I want to get fucked.”  
“I'm not in the mood.”  
“Please, daddy,” the sniper whispered. “Fuck me, boss, without any preparation, dry and hard, sir, please.” He grabbed Jim tighter so he could feel that his words affected the little Irish man. “You can tie me like a Christmas present, I wouldn't mind. You know like this one time. My hands on my back, tied at my feet, my ass lifted so you could see how the vibrator fucks me. Just this time it's you who fucks me, if you want.”

Jim leaned forward. For a moment Sebastian believed his boss wanted to kiss him, but then Jim bit Sebastian's lower lip. His sniper growled, grabbed him tighter and rocked his cock against the smaller body. He tasted blood, but it wasn't bad, it made him even harder.


	46. 2nd April 2010, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Jim can get very angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha, who corrected the text like always, to the gang (you bunch of psychopaths, you!) and to all the readers.

**Chapter 45: 2** **nd** **April 2010, London, England, United Kingdom**

He smiled. He fucking smiled. Jim had just entered their house and this fucking smile let him see red. Blood red. 

 

“Hey, boss.” Like a stupid puppy, the taller man came to him. It was disgusting. “It went very well, didn't it?”

 

The back of Jim's hand struck Sebastian's cheek. The strike had been so hard that his head moved in the same direction as Jim's hand, which hurt from the punch. The smiled had vanished. Good. Jim grabbed Sebastian's scruff. His sniper didn't say any word, his face was blank, his eyes looked dead. The Irish man gave him a clout and let him go while he was stepping back. Sebastian's nose was bleeding, his steps insecure. Again Jim punched him in the face, this time with his fist, this time so hard that Sebastian fell to the ground. He spit a mix of saliva and blood. Jim stood next to him. The ex-soldier just calmed down when Jim kicked him. In the ribs, against the chest, the head. He couldn't stop. Not now, not now, not now! Sebastian just lay on the ground, making himself as small as possible, protecting his head. He didn't make any sound. Good for him.

 

Jim had forgotten how long that went. Suddenly he found himself on the couch. There was blood on his shoes, his knuckles were open, someone (probably Sebastian) put a cream on them, maybe so they could heal faster. Jim looked at them confused. One moment he was scared he was deaf, because he didn't hear Sebastian coming with tea, but when he put the tray with the two cups and the teapot, Jim heard the typical tic-tac of the dishes. 

 

Anyway Sebastian looked terrible. He limbed, his face was swollen, and a black eye started to grow at his right side. Still he didn't say anything, nothing about the pain or Jim's anger, it was just... he didn't say anything.

 

“Is something broken, tiger?” Jim asked. A voice in the back of his head told him that he should say he was sorry (he was, he knew that it was a mistake to punch the hell out of Sebastian), tell him that he was okay, but he didn't.

Sebastian just shrugged, didn't look him in the eyes. “Nothing I can't deal with, sir.” His voice was cold. 

“Okay, did you call a doctor? Just to check there is no bigger damage...”

“It's okay, Jim,” Sebastian repeated, pouring tea in one of the cups. 

 

Then milk, two sugar cubes. Without another word he gave Jim the cup, still not looking at him. He continued with pouring himself a cup, but without anything. Sebastian never took milk or sugar. 

 

“You should change your clothes... there's blood at your collar.”

“How come there’s blood at my collar?” Jim asked confused, but he grabbed at his shirt. Yeah, there was a pattern at the fabric that could come from dried blood. 

“My nose bled, you punched me again in the face, so blood was at your hand and then you untied your tie,” Sebastian explained like he would explain a rookie how a rifle worked. 

“Oh,” Jim made. 

And finally he got a little emotion on Sebastian's face, a little smile, which reminded of the man he was when he hadn't been beaten by Jim. “Come 'ere,” the sniper said, pulling at Jim's collar before he unbuttoned the shirt.

Not until now Jim realised, that his jacket was vanished. “Where is my jacket?”

“In the clothes basket. Don't worry.” 

“How long was I away?” Sebastian already knew about Jim's black-outs when he became angry. After a while he always told him what happened.

“Depends, what is the last thing you can remember?” 

 

Sebastian had unbuttoned the shirt and got Jim out of it. It was a little bit strange to get help with undressing when it wasn't about sex, but Sebastian did it good. He was careful and didn't laugh about Jim being confused. 

 

“You lay on the ground, making you small as possible... I just punched you so hard you fell... You spit blood... and then I kicked you...”

 

The sniper looked at the watch around his wrist. Jim had bought it a while ago as a practical present to Sebastian's birthday (not that either one of them is into this kind of stuff). A good killer needed a good watch to be on time. Sebastian could have gotten every watch in the catalogue Jim had shown him. There had been very expensive ones, but Sebastian was for the smallest (and cheapest) exemplar. Because it was the most  _ practical _ _ .  _ Jim liked the fact that he chose the watch because it was  _ practical _ _ .  _

 

“So you were out... around half an hour.”

“Oh.” 

 

Jim took a sip from his tea. It was hot and perfect. When he didn't buy the wrong things, Sebastian was a perfect housekeeper: he cleaned the rooms, when he had the time, cooked for both of them, and made coffee and tea. Without the war he could have become a normal bloke... But war changed people. 

 

“We should make a trip to Boston,” Jim thought out loud.

Sebastian just wanted to drink his tea, but stopped. “Why?” He asked sceptically.

“You could meet a few friends, I could look how everything is working there...”

“I don't think, that's a good idea, Jim.”  
“Come on, Sebby, you are missing it, aren't you?”  
“No, in fact -” Suddenly he stopped. 

 

He spoke the truth, he didn't miss Boston nor his family. The only one he missed maybe was his friend Jack, teacher at a high school in South Boston, but Sebastian wouldn't visit him as long as he knew Jim was close to both of them, but Jim had another idea.


	47. May 2nd 2010, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was rare enough that one of Jim's plans didn't work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we are back in the USA (took us long enough), I hope you'll have fun with it. Thanks like always to nitininha, who corrects the chapters, the gang, because you know why, and all the readers.

**Chapter 46: May 2** **nd** **2010, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

It was rare enough that one of Jim's plans didn't work out. Sometimes it was funny, sometimes it cost good men's life, in this case it was just the plan of a trip, which didn't work. A plan for a fucking trip. 

 

“Are you sure I shouldn't come with you, tiger?” Jim asked while he was tying Sebastian's tie. 

The taller man shook his head. “My family is catholic and...”

“You could say I'm just a friend.”

“A friend who sits next to me at a funeral?” 

 

Actually they had wanted to come in the middle of May. Jim had bought tickets, Sebastian had organized the transport of his weapons. The usual stuff. One week before, Sebastian had gotten a call from his aunt. Since he joined the army, they didn't talk much. Sebastian calls at Christmas and her birthday, sometimes she called between this time, asking if everything is fine, but then she called this time it had been different.

 

Her voice had been cold, not because she hated him or something, it just... he thought it was because she didn't want to cry at the telephone. Eoin had had an accident. A deadly one. He had driven too fast (and probably drunk). On the highway somewhere outside of Boston, he had had to fall asleep, came from the right lane. A truck had hit Eoin's car. Wham. End of road. End of life. 

 

“Maybe you can join us at the dinner,” Sebastian suggested. 

“You hope I can save you.”

“A little bit.”  


Jim laughed quietly. He looked cute when he did that, well, when he laughed that kind of laugher. Every time he looked down to the side, like he wanted to avoid to be seen when he laughed. In these moments Sebastian remembered their difference in size. Usually Jim seems like he was 6,5 feet, although he was just round about 5,7 feet tall. Something in his behavior made him much taller. 

 

“I'll try my best, darling.” Finally Jim stopped taking care of Sebastian's tie.

 

His sniper supposed that he was uncomfortable with the situation. One of the many reasons Sebastian wanted him to still be in London, but this fucking stubborn boss wanted to see himself how good the network had grown in Boston. So they were here now. Together, but not really together, because Jim had given him a few days off for the family, although Sebastian had rather worked. 

 

They kissed a small quick kiss, nothing special, and then Jim sent Sebastian away  _ to take care of the Moran family _ , how he had said. 

 

~Φ~

 

It sent shiver down Sebastian's spine to see the priest again. Even now he imagined how the long finger glided about his lower back to a place they don't belong to. He wanted to throw up, but of course he couldn't do that in the church. Didn't matter how much he wanted to. 

 

Apart from the priest he felt like he was being watched. Something in his neck felt itchy because of it, but he couldn't turn his face around while this fucking priest talked about his dead cousin and his aunt cried to his left. He was stuck in a situation he shouldn't be. Hopefully Jim would save him before the  dinner started.

 

Auntie Katie had become old. Her hair was gray, almost white. Dark rings lay under her eyes and her hands were shaking. It made him uncomfortable to see the woman who had stood up against his father in this condition, but he couldn't do anything against it. Well, he didn't know what he should do. 

 

The years with Jim let him forget how ordinary people acted, how they socialized. All this shaking hands, smiling and getting hugged put Sebastian on edge. Tigers were loners for a reason and he felt so abnormal in comparison to all these people. 

 

It was after the ceremony. They still stood in front of the church. Sebastian was one of the first who offered the family his condolences. After he had gone further, Mary, his little cousin, followed him. She had grown up to a lady, he could see. Well, in fact she was just two years younger than him, but she was still his little cousin, although she was almost as tall as him. At her blond hair sat a black hat, very classic like her dress. She grabbed his arm and didn't let him go when he tried to get away from the touch. He had enough from that for one day. 

 

“Your father is here,” she whispered, her blue eyes looked worried. 

 

Mary and Eoin hadn't had a good relationship after he had joined the army. It had gotten even worse when he had gone to Iraq. She had always been a peacemaker, wanted everything good and nice, but it wasn't how the world was going, that wasn't how humans worked. So their relationship had become colder and she didn't seem very sad that her oldest brother was dead (Sebastian supposed that she was clever enough to know that they, him and Eoin, did some illegal stuff the last years). 

 

“Do you want me to bring him home, sweetie?” He had always called her like this. 

Even now it made her smile. “No, not yet, if he makes trouble, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“The suit is nice, by the way.” She smiled a little bit.

He returned it. “The dress is nice, too.”

“Hm, a nice gesture from a Mr M. Do you know something about it?”

No, Sebastian didn't know anything about it, but he had a suspicion. “Westwood?”

“How do you know?” She raised a brow. 

“My boss loves Westwood.”

“It's from your boss.”

“Probably.”

“How does he know my size?”

“He also chose this suit, never told him which size I have, but it's just perfect.”

“Hmm.”  
  
They stood there for a while, watching the people offering their condolences. Most of them Sebastian didn't know, well, he had seen them now and then, but it wasn't that he could remember any names. So Mary helped him. She pointed at the people, whispered their names in his ear and who they were (relatives, friends, teacher and colleagues, even a few guys from the army were there). Mary didn't look happy at them. 

 

At the end came a man even Mary didn't know. He was wearing a black suit, perfect fitting and his hair glanced from the styling gel in the sun. Sebastian couldn't see his face, because he was standing with the back to him, but he already knew who he was. And it made him smile. 


	48. 2nd May 2010, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a late birthday present, but at least it is one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: This chapter contains torture and sex (not in combination).  
> Thanks to nitininha for correcting the text, to the gang, because I'm sure, you'll like it, and to all the readers.

**Chapter 47: 2** **nd** **May 2010, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

The dinner was more a buffet in a restaurant that one of Sebby's hundred relatives owned. That was the problem with catholic families, the dozens of cousins, aunts and uncles (although Sebastian's real family was quite small, with auntie Katie, her husband Patrick, his father and the seven cousins). In fact most people here were relatives from Patrick. And so dull.

 

Meanwhile Sebastian looked like he thought the same. His female cousin, two years younger, smaller, but also blond, talked with him. She looked great in the dress Jim had sent her. It ended short above the knees, fitted very tight without being too sexy. Also the jacket hid her bare arms for the church. Loafing Jim joined them.

 

As the cute little tiger Sebastian was, his face brightened in the second he saw his boss. He showed his perfect white teeth in his sharkish smile before he introduced Jim:  
  
“Mary, this is Jim...um, I meant, Mr Moriarty. My boss.”  
Mary, named after Sebastian's mother, looked strangely at her cousin before she smiled and gave Jim the hand. “Mary Sweeney, the younger cousin. Thank you for coming and for the dress.” She blushed in this kind way, which made her look innocent.

 

Differently as Sebastian she had brown eyes. When she smiled she dimpled, which looked nice and cute (not that Jim liked nice and cute).

 

“You are very welcome,” he smiled charmingly.

 

Left to him Sebastian straightened himself. Both Mary and Jim looked at him, then followed his eyes. A man, two years older than Sebastian, came to them. His brown hair was a mess, the suit didn't fit well and he looked like he had come in hurry. The way he smiled at Sebastian made Jim feel uncomfortable, but the feeling vanished when the man kissed Sebastian's cousin on the cheek.

 

“Sorry that I'm late, a colleague called me to talk about one of my students.” He hesitated a moment, before he gave Sebastian his hand, who took it, before he changed his mind and hugged the man. “It's good to see you,” the older man said, hiding his face at Sebby's neck.  
“Um, you haven't seen each other in a while... maybe Mr Moriarty and I should... well, we could look for food,” Mary suggested, although Jim didn't want to go. It looked too familiar how Sebastian hugged this other man, who could just be Jack from the children's home.

 

So Mary linked her arm with his, which felt too close, and pulled him away. She led him to the buffet where she finally let him go.

 

“Sorry for my manner, but Jack is quite pissed of Sebby and I think they should resolve that,” she explained herself, looking worried back to the two men.

“You date him,” Jim said.

She shrugged. “You date _him_ _._ ”

“I wouldn't say that.”

“At least you both fuck,” she told while she put food on her plate.

Jim wasn't hungry. “How can you know?”

“Sebastian isn't the kind of man who has friends. He was, before...” She stopped for a second. “...before the war, but he isn't anymore. And a normal boss wouldn't come to comfort him after his cousin died. I'm not even speaking of how he looked at you.”

“How he looked at me?” He laughed.

“He is in love with you. He smiled at you this way. I know it's none of my business, but if he is happy with you, whatever you are for him, I'm okay with it.”

Before Jim could answer, someone began to yell: “Oh yeah, you wanted to steal my boy, now you lost your own. That's karma, baby!”

 

Sebastian's aunt went pale, while she watched her brother, who was obviously drunk. His fingertip dug in the chest of her husband, who seemed to be so shocked, that he couldn't do anything. Sebastian, who stood next to them, straightened himself before he went to his father. Jim had seen Sebastian angry already. Once a man had hurt Jim because one of his bodyguards failed and Sebastian had been so fucking angry, Jim still heard the screams of the bodyguard and the attacker sometimes, when he dreamt. But never was the anger like now, never Jim had seen pure hatred in Sebastian's face.

 

His tiger grabbed the scruff of the old man, he wanted to hit him, everything in his body language said that, but he didn't. Instead he pulled him out of the restaurant. When they passed Jim, he didn't even look at his boss, who decided in one second it was time to fulfil his plan. He winked at Mary before he followed his sniper.

 

Outside the restaurant, Augustus Moran fought against his son's grip.

 

“Let me go, you fucking faggot!” He screamed. People who passed by them looked at them before they passed by them faster.

“Calm down,” Sebastian hissed at his father, while Jim was sending a text to Kevin, who should pick them up.

“Not until you let me go! You and your little faggot boyfriend, should let me go!”

It was one thing to insult Sebastian, he was used to it, but Jim knew that he hated it when someone insulted his boss. So the sniper linked his foot with his father's right one, pulled away his legs and grabbed his neck.

 

The passer-bys looked even more frightened, but Jim ignored them. He pulled out his cigarette pack, lit one and gave it to Sebastian, who took it with his free hand. After that Jim lit one for himself.

 

“What are we doing with him?” Sebastian asked, after he took his first deep drag.

“Bringing him home,” Jim sing-sang.

The ex-soldier raised a brow. “What are you planning, Jim?”

“I thought you deserve a present after everything you have done in London.”

~Φ~

 

Jim wobbled on his chair that made strange noises, but he wasn't afraid that it would break, he was too light. There was a glass in front of him, in which Sebastian had poured the cheap whiskey of his father for both of them. His boss had taken one sip and he wouldn't take another, it was too gross! Maybe he should call Kevin to get a better one...

 

Anyway, meanwhile Sebastian had taken the whole bottle. He took big sips from it, his Adam's apple moved up and down, up and down with every sip he took. Finally he put the bottle from his lips. His eyes didn't glance anymore, his face didn't show any emotion while he watched his father, who fought against the tape that tied him against another chair.

 

Augustus Moran didn't make a sound. Well, in fact he couldn't make anything, because he was tied and gagged. Just his fingers moved and dug in the hard wood of his chair.

 

“How long does he have this chairs?” Jim asked lazily.

“At least since my birth.”

“Ah. They aren't very comfortable, are they?”

“I guess they were cheap.”

“Yeah, probably. Do you wanna start?”

 

Sebastian's eyes wandered to the tool box at the table next to the glass he had given to Jim. Hammer, nails, thumbscrew, a knife and a gun, everything someone could need for a great evening was in it. He breathed deeply before he took the hammer and tested the weight.

 

“What are you thinking about, tiger?”

“Jesus.”

“The nails?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, that sounds perfect.” Only the imagination made Jim hard.

 

With slow movements Sebastian took out the nails from the box. His father moaned against the gag, tried to fight harder against the tape, but of course it didn't work. Sebastian had made a perfect job like he always did. Now he stood up. His movements were slow and insecure. Jim didn't know if it was the alcohol’s fault or if Sebastian wasn't sure at all, but at least Sebastian stood in front of his father. His back straightened and the killer he was showed up.

 

His pointer and middle finger of the left hand held the nail at the centre of the right hand of his father, the hammer was in Sebastian's right hand when he struck out, struck the nail with the hammer and got it in the flesh of his father’s hand. Augustus tried to scream, but of course the gag absorbed every noise he made. Blood ran through the wound, and Jim lay his hand on his lap, watching Sebastian, who got the nail deeper and deeper in the flesh, before he turned away from it to put another nail in Augustus' left hand.

 

Sweat was running about the face of Sebastian's father, his hair was wet from it. Before Sebastian could nail the left hand to the chair, Jim stopped him with a wink before he got up and walked to the two Morans.

 

With his quiet, singsong voice he asked Augustus: “Do you know why do that, Augustus-darling? Do you know why we hurt you?”  
The older man shook his head. Tears lay in his eyes.

Jim smiled. “Because you hurt my tiger, he still has scars from you.”

Sebastian growled beastly.

“My tiger is a killer thanks to you, but still I can't accept what you have done to him. Do you understand?”

Fear lay in Augustus' eyes.

“You are my tiger’s present, because I was too busy to buy him something else for his birthday. And after he will have killed you, I'll take him on this nice little table. I'll fuck him and he'll scream my name, because he is my pet. And I get hard when I see my pet playing with his toys.”

 

Jim turned to Sebastian, who looked at him. Lust flickered in his eyes, lust and anger and it was so damn sexy that Jim couldn't resist. He laid a hand in Sebastian's neck, pulled him down to him just to kiss him roughly with all tongue and teeth before they finally parted again and Sebastian could continue.

 

He nailed Augustus’ hand to the chair, the clonk-clonk of the hammer was like music in Jim's ears, then he took the hammer to break every finger, one by one. Augustus's eyes started to flutter then, so Sebastian decided to make a break. He stepped back, taking the bottle of whiskey again. First he took a sip himself, before he went back to his father and give him something from the whiskey.

 

“You always loved to drink, didn't you?” Sebastian said with a husky voice before he poured the alcohol in his father's mouth, who could barely swallow the liquid.

 

~Φ~

 

At the end Augustus Moran's fingers were broken, all ten, the blood from his nailed hands had dried, while the blood from the wound at his chest was running down to his belly. He was pale and unconscious. The room smelled like piss, because he had pissed himself, and blood.

 

“Finish it, tiger,” Jim said bored and Sebastian got the pistol from the tool box.

 

The sniper installed the silencer before he shot his own father between his eyes. His shoulders moved with every deep breath he took, sweat drew dark spots at his sleeveless shirt. One moment Jim thought his tiger was too tired to do anything else, but then Sebastian turned around. His blue eyes glared at his boss before he stepped towards him, to kiss him roughly. Jim, almost surprised from the kiss, replied it, rocking his body against Sebastian's.

 

“Table. Now,” the small Irish man ordered and Sebastian followed.

  
While he was walking he opened his trousers. Both of them were too impatient to play one of their games now, no, now they just wanted to fuck. He made the table free from the tool box, the glass and the bottle, before he lay down on the back there.

 

Jim followed slowly, enjoying the look at the underwear of his sniper, this fine ass. He unbuttoned his own pants; glad to finally free his penis, before he pulled Sebastian's trousers and underwear down, his own followed and a few seconds later he was finally in his tiger. Sebastian was tight, because he wasn't prepared and hot, so damn hot. The ex-soldier screamed when Jim took him hard against the table, rubbing Sebastian's hard penis. The blood, the adrenalin, everything Sebastian had made in the last one and a half hours had brought them to the edge. And now, finally they ran about it. Jim struck Sebastian's prostate two times, the sniper came, and when he tightened around Jim, his boss also came.


	49. May 3rd 2010, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We are fucked up, you know...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tattoo that the boys are talking about based on this http://www.lovely-pain.de/wp-content/gallery/color/tattoo-3d-aufgerissene-haut.jpg . Thanks goes like always to nitininha for correcting the shit, the gang, because they like it and to all the readers because...yeah, you read it.

**Chapter 48: May 3** **rd** **2010, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

“We are fucked up, you know...” 

 

Sebastian sat on the sofa, the velvet of the casing felt comfortable against his naked ass. Jim, also naked and sitting at the arm chair at the other end of the coffee table, looked up from his files. It was one of the rare moments that Jim had so much time, that he didn't care  he wasn't dressed. Even his hair was still wet from the shower they took before.

 

“Hm?” He made, a clear sign he was listening.

“We are fucked up,” Sebastian repeated, “not in the normal way, you know. We are not depressed, we don't have burn-out, we are fucked up, but in another way than others. You are incredible destructive...”

“So are you,” Jim broke in on him. “Yesterday was your masterpiece.”

Sebastian stared at him before he continued: “Yeah, yeah, probably I am. We are both fucking sadists and masochists, no, I know you are. I just killed my father. No, I didn't just kill him, I tortured him, I  _ enjoyed _ it and now he is dead and I should feel something. Anger, sadness, even relief would be okay, but there is nothing.” 

 

He wanted to continue, but he stopped when he saw that Jim stood up and came to him. Jim, without any emotions readable on his face, on his eyes, sat down at Sebastian's lap. Both of his hands went to Sebastian's temples. The fingers of the left one glided behind Sebastian's ear, the fingernails scratched the scalp there. Sebastian leaned into the touch. It felt so damn good.

 

“Of course we are, baby,” Jim said, his voice so soft, so fucking soft. “And of course you don't feel anything, you forbid yourself to feel anything, except your feelings for me, and well... you don't even admit them. 

Obviously it's about the army: You saw a lot of things in Afghanistan, lost a friend, killed other humans, men, women, even kids and then you came back and nothing had changed, not your environment and not you. Still, you wanted to kill people. Still, you didn't care about who they were, how old, what they had done. And then I came, I understood your need to kill and I used it, because I wanted to see people dead. Also I could satisfy your masochistic needs. I took care of you. Constantly. Something just two other people did before me. You feel safe with me, and that's why you fell in love with me.”

Sebastian stopped to look at Jim when he started to talk about Afghanistan. His heart was bumping. He felt uncomfortable. 

“You are broken, tiger, you are fucked up, babe. And it's so exciting. Baby, let us burn everything down. Let us do it, let's paint the world red, dark red, blood red, darling!” Jim leaned forward. Skin met skin. “Look at me, cubby, do it for daddy.”  


Sebastian turned his face to Jim. Of course he did. He was just a soldier following the orders of his commander. Dark eyes looked at him, deep down in his soul, and then dry lips kissed his own. Automatically he shut his eyes, grabbing Jim's shoulders. Although he enjoyed the touch of Jim's lips, their skin, pushed against each other, he was too exhausted to get hard again. Though Jim didn't seem like he wanted to have sex either. 

 

“What did you talk about with Jack?”

Sebastian moaned. “That's none of your business, Jim.”

“We both know that's not true.”  


The sniper sighed. Jim wouldn't let him be quiet about this. He was too jealous, Sebastian knew that. He had known that in the moment he had hugged Jack.

 

“It's unfair that you are allowed to be jealous, but I'm not. Just saying,” Sebastian mumbled, before he explained: “It was mostly about me not calling him, Jim. And you know why I don't do it. I want him safe, safe of you.”

Jim didn't reply anything to that. Of course he knew, he always did.

“And then I asked him about Mary. I'm worried that he goes out with her, because she reminds him of me.”

“He was in love with you when you were younger.”

“Yes, and we had sex.” Lies wouldn't work, Sebastian knew, so he just said the truth. “But he is just a friend, Jim, seriously. Just... leave him alone, okay? He is none of your business.”

“Okay.” That was surprisingly easy. “And now tell me about the new tattoo you are planning to get.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “What?”

“I know you want a new tattoo.”

“Clever bastard,” Sebastian smirked.

“Watch your tone, tiger.” But Jim also grinned. “So?”

The sniper sighed again, his fingers dancing about Jim's skin. “Want something on my back...”

“Yes?”

“...ripped skin would be nice, you know...”

“Yeah, that sounds very sexy...”

“...and under it will be the fur of a tiger.”

Jim giggled. “It's so cliche, but I can imagine it on your shoulder blade.”

“So you are okay with it?”

“Of course I am.”

“Of course you are,” Sebastian repeated smiling. 

 

Suddenly he felt tired. It had been hours ago he had killed his father and since then, he hadn't slept. It was the middle of the night, his inner clock would wake him up in three hours, maybe more, maybe less. His fingers lost the grip at Jim's skin, his hands fell beside him. He was so fucking tired. Jim scratched his scalp again. The touch didn't help, rather it made him even more sleepy. 

 

“You can sleep, Sebby, you have nothing to worry about.”  
  
Jim was right. Sebastian didn't have to care about anything, because Jim already did. His boss had also taken care of Augustus Moran's body. One of his own doctors had come, who “had been called by the worried son of Augustus, who fell (drunk) down the stairs”. On the death certificate would be written that Augustus had broken his neck when he had fallen down the stairs. Nobody would want to see the body, Augustus wasn't close enough to anyone, but he would get a funeral, paid by Sebastian, who would be absent, because of the work. 

 

Everything was fine. Everything was fine... Everything was...

 

“Sleep very well, tiger.”


	50. May 11th 2010, New York City, New York, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian have a guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks goes to nitininha, because she corrects the chapters and has (mostly) fun with them, to the gang, because they'll never forgive and to the readers, whose opinion to a few scenes I don't know.

**Chapter 49: May 11** **th** **2010, New York City, New York, USA**

The wrap felt strange at his back, but it was okay. A necessary evil, when you got a tattoo. It had been the second and last session today and the tattoo looked very good. Jim would enjoy it. When it was healed, his fingers would glide about Sebastian's shoulder blade, who would probably be tied and gagged so Jim could do everything he wanted with his tiger. 

 

Sebastian stopped in the middle of the corridor because he realized that he thought about how much Jim would love this tattoo. He shouldn't care about what Jim liked and what not. It shouldn't matter, but it did, didn't it?

 

“I never wanted you to fall in love with me,” Jim had said. 

 

Actually Sebastian wasn't sure about it. Of course sentiments could make people softer, lacking in concentration, but not him. Apart from the fact that he wasn't in love with Jim, how could anyone fall in love with Jim? He was Moriarty, a crazy little bastard, the  boss , a sadist and misanthropist. Jim only had two emotions: Excitement and hate. Nothing in between. When he wasn't excited nor angry, he was just... blank. A working body with a brilliant mind, but nothing more. How could anyone possibly love him?

 

Sebastian stood in front of their hotel room. Voices were audible from there.  Voices . Jim had a guest. A female guest to be more concrete. The ex-soldier could recognize the difference between voices that came from loud speakers and the television. It was something that you had to learn when you were a killer, because sometimes those things were used to confuse him. But this voice was from a real woman, sitting or standing or  laying  in Jim's and his hotel room. 

 

Jealousy conquered his mind, before he remembered that Jim usually had boys. The pillows always smelled like men when Sebastian came home from a job in a foreign country. And this was the other point. As long as Sebastian was in the same country as Jim, well, at least as long as Sebastian would come home at the night or the day, Jim  never  got one of his other pets. Sebastian wasn't sure if it made him special, but he knew Jim would never do such a thing. 

 

So he took a deep breath before he opened the door. He didn't say anything when he stepped into the small corridor that ended in the living room. There was no “I'm home, honey” in Jim's and his relationship. Still quiet, he slipped out of his shoes while his hand lay down at his pistol at his hip. 

 

The man who tattooed him worked mostly with guys who worked in the organized crime scene, so he didn't complain about the gun or even make a comment about it. Good for him. When Sebastian was around ordinary people in cities, he was always carrying a gun, even in England and all the other stupid European countries where it was forbidden. 

 

Now he was pretty happy about it. When Jim was in danger, Sebastian could shoot anyone who tried to hurt him. Of course he didn't need to. 

 

Jim sat on one of the two white couches in the living room. His dark blue, tailored by Vivienne Westwood just for him suit made a similar contrast with his dark hair and eyes to his pale skin. His legs were crossed and his black shoes glanced while his face wasn't showing any emotion. In front of him at the other couch sat a woman, the woman Sebastian had heard before. 

 

She was pretty, high cheekbones, dark hair like Jim's, pale eyes, which looked at Sebastian, when she heard him (and she heard him very early, too early). Something in them, in her eyes, reminded him of Jim. She just looked through Sebastian, who felt uncomfortable in front of another predator as Jim. 

 

“So, this is the famous pet,” she said leaning back, still watching him. He had to stare at her red lips. Blood red, the same color as her nails. 

Jim followed her eyes. “Yes. Sebastian, would you be so kind to make us all, yeah for you, too, tiger, tea? And then join us please.”

“Yes, sir.” 

 

Sebastian felt both pairs of eyes in his back as he turned around to go to the little kitchen of the hotel room. When he closed the door to the living room, he sighed in relief. Jim alone could make him uncomfortable enough, in combination with this woman, it was like hell, but anyway Sebastian hurried. He filled the kettle with water and turned it on while he prepared a tray with a teapot, where he put in the tea, milk, sugar and cups. Home he would use the mug Jim had given him for a present once (of course it was a mug with a cartoon tiger on it). But here he didn't have it with him, so he had to use these stupid little cups the hotel prepares for the rooms. Finally the tea was ready, and as the good pet he was, he brought the tray with the tea into the living room. Again both, Jim and this woman, were watching him while he served the tea before Jim pointed at the sofa next to him. Sebastian understood this invitation and sat down.

 

“Miss Adler, this is Sebastian Moran, Sebastian, this is Irene Adler. She has a present for me, well, she has one part of a present and we just planned how I can get the whole gift. We both liked the idea of using Sherlock Holmes for it. What do you think?”

“Works for me, sir,” Sebastian replied, knowing that he didn't have a real choice. Jim's fascination for Sherlock Holmes was pathological, and if Sebastian came into the way, Jim would kill him without a second thought. 

Miss Adler leaned forward. Her black dress fitted her great body very well. Her pale eyes still watched Sebastian. “It's funny, you know, Mr Moriarty? You and Mr Holmes are so similar... Even both of you have a soldier fellow.”

“Sebastian isn't a little bit like John Watson.”

“He would also do everything for you. Just like John Watson would do for Mr Holmes. And... oh look! He is ashamed of his own feelings, just like John Hamish Watson.”  


The ex-soldier felt uncomfortable, not just because a totally strange woman talked about his feelings, it was also that Jim and she talked about him like he wasn't there. He straightened up a little bit, watching Jim, who didn't pay attention to him. Of course not. Jim was engrossed by this Miss Adler. 

 

“Of course he is, he forbids himself any emotion. Different as John Watson.”

“Not really.” She smiled. “But anyway, I have the plan and I don't wanna bother you anymore. You have my cell number, Mr Moriarty?”

Jim just nodded, giving her a deadly look, but she pretended not to see it. Clever girl. 

“Goodbye, gentlemen, I'm sure we will meet again.” With fast steps she left the two men. 

 

Sebastian's eyes followed her, of course, though Jim owned him, he was still a man and Miss Adler looked awesome.

 

“You are interested in her,” Jim said, after Miss Adler had closed the door of the hotel room.

“So are you,” Sebastian answered quickly.

Jim glared at him.

“She is clever like you and Holmes,” his sniper continued, pretending he wouldn't see it just like Miss Adler, “It is about Holmes, isn't it?”

“Even if it is, why are you caring?” 

“I don't.”

“Of course you do.”

“Well, your fascination for this man is pathological, it could kill you.”

“So could you.”

“But I won't.”

“Yeah... because you are dull.”

“Ah, we are getting charming now. Great.”

“Sebastian, you... you can't understand how boring you are. Even now you are boring me, while he occupies my brain night and day, do you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand, that you are a dickhead.”

“Watch your tone!”

“I know you like it when I don't do it, when I answer back, because it gives you a reason to punish me and yes, you like that. And I don't think this Holmes-guy would let you do the same things I let you do with me.”

“Prove it.”

“I'd love to!”


	51. 25th December 2010, Dublin, Leinster, Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in Ireland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the song by Sinéad O'Connor here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJ9a8oz22mQ I'm not sure, that she had already performed it in the time I wrote here but I wanted it so much  
> Of course I didn't chose it just because it's so beautiful. Andrew Scott had also sung it in the Stag: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6EwfHPvyno  
> Thanks goes like always to nitininha, who corrects the text, to the gang because they are awesome and all other readers.

**Chapter 50: 25** **th** **December 2010, Dublin, Leinster, Ireland**

_09:34 pm Sherlock Holmes leaves the hospital_ _,_ a text with a picture of the famous detective leaving the Saint Bartholomew's hospital. Everything went as well as planned. Oh, did you see those sad, blue eyes?! Jim smiled.

 

“We said no work.”

He looked up.

 

A woman stood in front of him, dark hair, dark eyes, 11 years younger than him. She was wearing jeans and a lilac t-shirt, he instead was wearing the trousers of one of his suits and a simple white shirt without any tie. Still he felt incredible overdressed in her little student digs, but at the same time he didn’t want to wear the stuff Jim from IT had been wearing.

 

She gave him a glass of the fancy whiskey he had presented her before she sat down on the couch in front of his armchair. The hard expression on her face vanished when she tucked up her legs.

 

“I guess it was important?”

 

Of course it was. Irene Adler, dominatrix who knew more secrets than she should faked her own death tonight, after she made Sherlock falling for her. Jim ignored the little pain in his part at this thought. Anyway Sherlock Holmes believed that she was dead (he had a cigarette when he left the hospital, not a good sign, nooo), so when she would come back in a few days, he would be delighted and do everything for her. No matter how stupid it would be.

 

“Of course it was.”

His sister sighed. “James, it's the first time you come over for Christmas for years, now behave like that!”

A muffled pain appears behind his forehead. “Don't call me that.”

“It's your name,” she insisted.

“No, it's our father's name, I was never asked.”

“Should they call you the first few years of your life son, until you could understand exactly that you shall search your own name?”

“Would have been an alternative,” he answered seriously.

She shook her head in disbelieve. “That's not how it works.”

“That's how it should work.”

 

Both took a sip of their whiskey at the same time. Jim's sister wasn't like his parents, not so dull, not so stupid. Well, at least she had found him herself when she had been 15. She had wanted to know where the money that he sent her and their mother came from. The answer hadn't satisfied her, she had started a big fight before she had gone back to Ireland. One year later she asked for money again. Their mother had become ill. Dementia.

 

“She talks a lot about you, you know?”

“She speaks a lot about Jimmy, she can't remember me.”

“That's not her fault.”

“Thank you, I know, Janine, no need to remind me.”

“Okay, let us change the subject. No talking about our parents.”

“Thank you.”

“Can we talk about you instead?” With her brown eyes she looked worried at him. She always did that. Isn't your job too dangerous, Jim, it could kill you someday, James, this kind of stuff. It was so boring.

He took another sip of his whiskey. It lay soft on his tongue, but burned in his throat. Perfect. “I'm okay.”

“I'm just wondering... do you have a girlfriend?”

“Oh please, Janine, do you have any subjects we aren't uncomfortable with?”

“Boyfriend?”

Jim frowned. “How... did you spy on me?”

“Of course, I would never hear a word from you if I didn't! So who is he?”

“He isn't my boyfriend!”

“But?”

“He is just my second-in-command, he is good in his job.”

“Do you sleep with him?”

“Even if I do, it's none of your business, Janine!”

She smiled with the confident of victory. “Are you gay?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It doesn't, I just wanna know something about you.”

“You already know things about me.”

“Most sisters know much more about their brothers.”

“Most sisters grow up with their brothers.”

“That's not fair.”

“It's just the truth, little sister.”

They stared at each other and Jim remembered why he usually avoided her. She was fucking stubborn. It might be the Irish blood, the gene of their father or that she grew up like an only child, but it made him angry.

 

Sighing she stood up again. “I think the turkey is ready.”

“Can I help you?”

“Brother mine, when you are in my kitchen, I'm scared you’ll make a bomb out of it.”

“Christmas would be saved.”

Janine winked at him. “While I'm away, you could turn on some music. And no, I don't have something from Johann Sebastian Bach!” With these words she left the living room.

 

Jim instead waited a few moments before he stood up, too. Slowly he walked to his sister's stereo. He wasn't surprised when he found a CD of Sinéad O'Connor. He was pretty sure their mother had told Janine, that he had loved Raglan Road by her, when he had been much younger. When he had been three, the time before he had started to go to bed all alone, his mother had sung this song for him, too, before he fell asleep.

 

Wasn't it funny that people with vascular dementia remembered long passed moments, but not what you told them five minutes ago?

 

He put in the CD and skipped the songs until he found what he wanted to hear.

 

_“On Raglan Road of an autumn day_   
_I saw her first and knew_   
_That her dark hair would weave a snare_   
_That I might one day rue”_

 

Jim closed his eyes, listening to the song, the Sinead O'Connor's high voice, but he opened them again when he heard Janine stepping into the room.

 

“You should visit her,” she said softly.

“She would think I'm one of the caretakers, as she does with you.”

“It could help her.”

“I already help her. Or isn't the money I send you every month enough?”

“Of course it is, but...”

He turned around to her. “See, I know you are into these sentimental things, but I'm not, Janine. You know that, our mother knows that, the whole fucking world knows it.”

Pacifying, she held up her hands. “Okay, okay, I'm sorry, Jim. Let us eat and then we talk about why ayou’re here. No, don't look at me like you don't want anything, I know you do.”

Jim smiled slightly. “I wanted to talk about my funeral.”


	52. 31st December 2010, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim loves when Sebastian gives him certain kinds of photos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today, because I was asked very nicely and I got another bookmark and that makes me happy^^ I hope you all have fun with it. Thanks goes as always to my beta, nitininha, the gang and all the readers.

**Chapter 51: 31** **st** **December 2010, London, England, United Kingdom**

“I wish I could kill him again,” Sebastian mumbled while his fingers were twiddling with his nose.

“Stop touching it,” Jim growled. He grabbed Sebastian's hand and pushed it at the mattress. 

 

The sniper's face looked terrible. Everything around the nose was swollen and blue and a white strip adhere on his nasal bone. A nasal fracture. Jim was still angry that Sebastian let that happened. Not that it was Sebastian's fault. Not really. He had been in Belarus for a few days. It hadn't been something big, but when Sebastian had gone to his hotel after the job had been done, he had passed by a pub (maybe drinking hole would've been the better word). A group of ten drunk, Belorussian men came out of the building, saw Sebastian and thought he would be an easy prey. Of course he wasn't. Even after one of these arseholes had punched him exactly on the nose and it had started to bleed, Sebastian had fought back. At the end everyone except the one who punched Sebby could flee. 

 

Jim could only imagine what a mess his sniper had done out of this guy who had broken his nose. And the things he could imagine were great, really, really great. His index and middle finger ran about Sebastian's neck, who got goosebumps from the touch. 

 

“Do you have photos?” The Irish man asked purring. 

Sebastian laughed. “He just broke my nose and I should have made photos for you?” Something in Sebastian's eyes told Jim that he had actually taken pictures. They glanced in excitement.

“Did you?”

“Of course.” 

 

The sniper pulled his phone out of his trousers and gave it to Jim. The Consulting Criminal took it before he changed his sitting position. Now he leaned at the armrest from the couch, his legs lay about Sebastian's, who took Jim's right foot between his strong hands. With strong movements he kneaded them, while Jim unlocked the mobile phone.

 

Of course he knew Sebastian's password.  _ M24 SWS. _ Like his first rifle. Sebastian could be very sentimental with his weapons. Once, his M24 hadn't worked well, so Sebastian had repaired it the entire night, although he hadn't slept the night before either. While it was normal for Jim not to sleep a few nights, Sebastian wasn't used to it. He needed his sleep like he needed food (dull, dull dull!) and drink. 

 

Jim slipped down the armrest, humming satisfied because of Sebastian's massage, before he opened the folder with the photos Sebastian had taken. Most of them were from crime scenes, and of course Jim had taken care, that his men in the secret services of this world controlled Sebastian's mobile. They wouldn't share where Jim's favourite sniper and second-in-command would go, what he would do or what he had already done. Probably it made Sebastian's mobile phone the second safest after Jim's. 

 

The criminal mastermind didn't have to look long to find said photos. They were the last that had been taken. 

 

It was a bloody mess, like Jim had thought. The alley, where Sebastian had killed this guy was full of blood. Close-up views from broken hands, laying red and brightly in the snow, distorted arms and legs and a smashed head at the wall of the ally. Grey brain came out of the skull, the face wasn't recognisable anymore. The more Jim saw, the harder it made him. He felt how his erection pushed against the fabric of his expensive trousers. Lazily he laid a hand on the swelling, knowing that Sebastian watched him out the corner of his eyes. The sniper bit on his lower lip, saliva let it glance.

 

Pervert bastard. The last photo Sebastian had shot was the best proof. 

 

A selfie of Sebastian wearing a bloody (literally) sleeveless shirt and black trousers out of which his half erected penis was hanging. Sebastian had never been ashamed of his body, it had never been necessary, so in fact Jim shouldn't be as shocked as he was. His mouth went dry.

 

“Do you like it?” The sniper's voice sounded purring. 

Jim licked his lips, but didn't show another reaction. “It's nice,” he replied pretending not to be influenced by the picture. 

“It's my Christmas present for you.”

“I thought we didn't make presents for Christmas.”

“The exception proves the rule. And you should see the printed -"

  
Sebastian couldn't finish the sentence. Jim pulled him by his neck to himself before he kissed him roughly. First Sebastian was surprised, but then he replied the kiss. It wasn't comfortable how they lay there, legs knotted and Sebastian's heavy weight (not that he was fat, but the muscles...) lay on Jim's much smaller, though strong body. The sniper's lips were dry, his five-o'clock shadow scratched Jim's face. 

 

Differently of Sherlock with John, Jim loved his ex-soldier not shaved. Actually Sebastian looked so much better with a beard, just like the hard man he was for the world. No one else should know what a kitten Sebastian really was.

 

“Did something important happen while I was in Belarus?” The sniper whispered against Jim's lips. 

“Nothing biggie, the usual,” Jim answered, “Irene Adler is dead, well... not really dead, but Sherlock thinks that.” He looked at the clock in Sebastian's mobile. “I correct myself, he already knows she is still alive.”

“You are playing with other people's emotions.”

“And you sound like you love it.”

“You know I do.”  


They both grinned into the next kiss. All tongue and teeth, and delicious, oh, oh, so delicious! Sebastian's mouth tasted like cold cigarettes and beer (something Jim usually avoided), and all this mixed with the metallic taste of blood when Jim bit on his lower lip until it bled, but then Jim separated them again.

 

“Do you think you could lead the network for a few weeks?” He asked, watching Sebastian's face.

The ex-soldier frowned. “Why?”

“Don't worry, it's all part of the game.”

“Jim, which game?” Fear and anger lay in Sebastian's voice at the same time. It was kind of sexy. “Don't tell me it's still about Holmes!”

“Of course it's about Holmes! I can't let him do whatever he wants.”

“Oh dammit, James,” Jim felt something dropping when he heard his full first name, “why is everything you do about him, hm?! Why is he so fucking special?!”

“Because he is me!” Jim hissed. 

Sebastian laughed. “No, he isn't. He is not even quite like you! He is so good, even if he is an asshole, he even helped to make a good man out of a soldier!”

“I did the same!”

“No, you made me to a good killer, not a good man.”

“That's what you wanted to be.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why do you still have feelings then?”


	53. 18th February 2011, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are going their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now almost at the end... well "almost" is such a imprecise word (I'm writing at chapter 59 at the moment), so I make a little announcement: There will be a sequel with the title "A life on the razor edge". I hope you, my dear reader, look forward to it. Anyway, have fun with this chapter. Thanks goes to nitininha (what a surprise), the gang of the mormor-chatroom and of course to all the other readers. It's great to see, that people like this story.

**Chapter 52: 18** **th** **February 2011, London, England, United Kingdom**

Sebastian was shopping when Mycroft Holmes got Jim. It wasn't surprising for the Consulting Criminal, to be honest it was planned. Both happenings of course: That Sebastian was shopping and that the men of the MI5 came into their house. Unfortunately they couldn't do it in the decent way. No ringing the bell or knocking, no, of course not. They had to kick open the door. 

 

He was sitting in the living room on the ground floor, the stereo was playing  _ Raglan Road _ (he had stolen his sister’s CD, he just couldn't resist), in his hand he was holding a glass with his fanciest whiskey when he heard the noise. 

 

_“ On a quiet street where old ghosts meet”_

 

Sebastian would pull out one of his guns. He would tell the men to fuck off. Jim didn't do such a thing, he sipped at his whiskey when they entered the living room, kicking open this door too. 

 

_“ I see her walking now  
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow”_

 

One of them, the leader obviously, stepped forward and wanted to say something, but Jim just laid a finger on his lips. “Psh,” he whispered. Still listening to the song. 

Of course the leader hesitated. Most people wouldn't sit still, listening to music and drinking their whiskey if a bunch of mummed policemen entered their living rooms, guns aiming at the residents. 

 

_“ When the angel woos the clay  
He'll lose his wings at the dawn of day,”_ Jim joined the last lines of the song with a soft voice. Then, he finally looked at the strange men in his living room. “I'm sorry, but I love the song too much. I guess you are here to bring me to the Thames House.”

The leader wanted to say something, but Jim stopped him with a simple sign. 

“I already know who sent you,” he smiled charmingly while he got up. He brushed his hair back, straightened his clothes (no suit today, just the kind of clothes Jim from IT would have worn). “No worries, I have no guns with me. You can frisk me and I'll follow you.”

 

One of the other men came closer after he got the job per nod from his boss. He didn't move securely. Fear and nervousness lay in the air; Jim could smell it, when the man touched his chest, his hips, his legs. Just for a second his head was in the amount of Jim's crotch. One moment he watched directly at it. Jim laughed when he stepped back soon.

 

“That's no gun, baby. Oh but you are heterosexual, you haven't seen a lot of strange men's dicks, right?” 

“Haul him off,” the leader hissed.

 

Two men grabbed Jim's arms so he couldn't move them anymore, not that he wanted to fight back or run away or do something else stupid that could cost his life (not to mention, that he wanted to be caught!). Still these stupid people held him tightly. Lucky for them that Sebastian wasn't here. He would kill them without batting an eye. They brought him out of the living room to the entrance area, out of the house and to a black van. Not the kind of vehicle Jim was accustomed. 

 

~Φ~

 

“So I finally meet the infamous Mr Holmes.” Jim smiled at the taller man, who was wearing a well tailored suit.

Mycroft Holmes' corner of the mouth twitched. “James Moriarty.”

“Please, you can call me Jim,” the criminal mastermind said with his most charming smile. 

 

The pale eyes of the other man were running about his body, deducing, looking for every hint of weakness, but Jim wouldn't show him one. No, no, no. That would be too easy and who wanted to have it too easy? 

 

Easy was boring, Mycroft Holmes was too good for easy. Though he would never show it, his job in a  minor position for the government had to bore him so much. Yeah, sometimes you met interesting people like Jim, but most of the time Holmes was surrounded by politicians and diplomats. And Jim had met enough of them to know that they could be so fucking stupid and boring, boring, boring! 

 

But not now. Now Jim was in Mycroft's hands, and wasn't that exciting? 

 

“I prefer Mr Moriarty,” Mycroft told nasally. British arrogance in all of his gestures, mimics and words. 

“As you wish.”

“I want to know about your network.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted to invite me to a dinner. Now I'm disappointed, I'm wearing my best clothes.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Nah. Caught!”

“Will you give me the informations?”

“Wouldn't that be too easy, Mr Holmes? Just between us both: We want that one of your apes come and punches me in the face. You, because I almost killed your brother and his pet, me, because I'm a sadomasochist. I love to sit at both ends.” 

Mycroft's face didn't show any emotions when he signed one of his men to come in.

 

That was the funny thing with the Holmes-brothers. They could hide their emotions very well when they wanted. The Holmes weren't just clever, they used their cleverness (something most people weren't able to do). 

 

Jim heard how the door behind him was opened, the heavy steps of a man who was more brawn than brain. 

 

“You know what to do,” Mr Holmes ordered the man, who cracked his knuckles. Jim would kill Sebby if he did that.

 

Like he had deduced from the steps, the man who stood in front of him now was big. Not just tall, no, his arms were bulky like Jim's thigh. Sebastian, who was also strong, would look beside this man like a dwarf with spaghetti arms. Still Jim wasn't afraid. He knew he should be. Most people would be. Maybe even Sherlock, but not Jim. Jim was incredibly calm. His face went blank before the MI5-guy could punch him in the face. 

 

Yes, it hurt. After all Jim felt pain, but it didn't stop him to think, it didn't make him illogical nor stupid. Pain didn't scare him. Nothing did. Not even death. 

 

~Φ~

 

He lay on the ground. His whole body was red pain, but he was still breathing. Moaning he curled up at his back. How Sebastian managed to stand up and walk around after, he, Jim, had lost his mind in anger and punched the hell out of him? 

 

“Bring him into his cell.” Mycroft Holmes ordered. 

 

Two men – where did the second come from? – grabbed Jim's shoulders, pulling him on his feet. Jim's knees felt weak, but he could stand. Walking was more difficult, so he let the men pull him out of the cell, where he had laid on the ground. He already missed the cool stone under his painful body, but he was too weak to fight back. 

 

Tomorrow he could offer Mycroft a deal. Not a real deal of course, just a few steps to complete his plan. It was a good plan, a plan which would end in blood and tears. 

 

Just for one moment he allowed himself to imagine Sebastian, if everything went how he had planned. The tiger would be a mess, but he would survive. He always survived. 


	54. February 18th 2011, London, England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dear lord, Sebastian found himself praying, let it be a joke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again two chapters a day, thanks for that go to proudt2 please, she is begging so nice. Thanks goes like always to nitininha, the gang and all other readers. Have fun with it!

**Chapter 53: February 18** **th** **2011, London, England**

He let the grocery fall. The plastic bags rustled while his heart stopped. An instinct conquered his mind. He pulled out the gun he was always caring. With his left arm he supported his right hand, so he could absorb the recoil, if he had to shoot. Slowly and quietly he stepped over the kicked open door. Blood rushed through his ears, except from that he just could hear a quiet melody, familiar, but nothing Jim would hear, would he? 

 

The entrance was empty, so was the kitchen and the parlor. Still Sebastian hadn't looked into the living room, from where the music came. Only the thought of what he could find gave him chills. 

 

He imagined Jim there, laying on the white furry carpet in the lounge. The carpet wouldn't be white anymore, it would be blood red, colored by Jim's blood, who lay there, pale and dead. Sebastian could already see him with a hole in his forehead, in his brilliant head. Killed by an enemy, a secret service. 

 

_“...Queen _ _ of Hearts still making tarts _ _ ,” _ Sinead O'Connor sang. The living room was empty. 

 

Maybe it was just a stupid joke of Jim... Of course, what else could have happened? 

 

“Haha, Jim, very funny!” Sebastian's voice was shaking. “Come out! I don't play hide and seek with you, do you understand?”

No replies. Of course.

_“_ _ Oh I loved too much and by such by such _ _...” _

 

Sebastian left the room. His heart was still bumping against his ribs, he was still breathing shallowly. He kept the gun up, listening to the house, but still he just heard the melody of the song, O'Connor's high voice. The sniper went back to the entrance. Everything was too bright. The red carpet of the white marble stairs reminded him of blood. Anyway he had to go about it, he had to find Jim, he had to see that he could help him. 

 

But all the other rooms were empty. 

 

Sebastian's heart beat faster and faster, he felt like he couldn't breathe, his vision blurred. Where the fuck was Jim? What happened? Was it a joke? Oh, please, please, dear lord, Sebastian found himself praying, let it be a joke. 

 

_ Sentiments _ _ , Jim's voice in his head said.  _ _ Why do you still have feelings then? _

_ I'm not arguing with you, if you aren't here! _

_ Oh, but you do already, don't you, kitten? _

_ You are not real, you are not here! _

_ Yeah, probably you are going mad, crazy, crazy, crazy little tiger! _ Jim sing-sang in Sebastian's head. Sebastian wanted to scream.

 

Instead he ran into Jim's home office, knowing he shouldn't enter it if Jim wasn't there. At the monitors pictures of 221b Baker Street were flickering, but Sebastian didn't pay attention. A CD jewel case was laying there at the desk in front of the monitors. In Jim's handwriting the word  tiger  was written on the CD, well, in fact it was a DVD in a CD jewel case. 

 

With shaky fingers, Sebastian grabbed the case before he left the home office again. He left the door ajar, just like if Jim would be there. Jim loved to know, what was going on in the house, even when he was working. 

 

Quietly as possible Sebastian stepped back into his own home office. Jim hated to be disturbed by loud noises when he was working. A pain appeared in Sebastian's frontal lobe when he sat down at his desk, putting the gun next to him. He started the laptop and put the disk in. 

 

A few seconds or minutes? He lost his sense of time, the DVD finally started. The monitor flickered. Of course. Jim loved this effect. Stupid, brilliant bastard. A crazy smile lay on his lips, when he finally appeared for real. 

 

“Hello, kitten, when you see this, the MI5 has me in its claws. No, don't jump up from your chair! Don't try to save me! You would just be killed. I'll be alright. Mycroft Holmes can't risk to kill me. He'll let me free soon. 

Anyway. On this disk there are a few files. They will tell you what you have to do while I'm away. You are... responsible for the whole network now. I trust you, tiger.

Don't worry. I'll be back...” Jim seemed to be puzzled about something. “...to you. Soon.”

 

The movie was over. Jim's face just vanished, the monitor was all black again, so Sebastian turned off the processing mode. Instead he opened the documents on the DVD. The most things Jim had written down weren't things Sebastian had never done. He already commanded other killers, carried on negotiations with customers, criminals, enemies and politicians. 

 

The last order was:  _ Don't disobey me, don't try to help me, don't kiss another person, while I'm away.  _

 

Sebastian couldn't help himself, but giggled. The giggle became a laughter, so he didn't feel the tears, which were running down his cheeks. Jim was such a crazy bastard, a fucking sadist, suicidal and probably... probably he would die, but still he didn't want Sebastian to kiss another person. Possessive son of a bitch. 

 

_ Watch your tone! _ His voice in Sebastian's head commanded.

_ Shut up!  _ Sebastian answered, without thinking about it. Did it really matter that he argued with a voice in his head that sounded like Jim's? Probably not. It didn't matter how fucked up he was, it never did. Everything that mattered was that he worked and, God, he would work. 

 

He started with calling the new leader of London's Tong field office. After he had shot Shan, the Tong had had problems with getting reorganized, but of course Jim had given them help with that problem, too. 

 

_ Make them grateful, let them think they are the dominating ones, until you need something from them.  _

 

“Yes, Mr Chang, right, I'm Sebastian Moran. How can I help you, sir?”


	55. 14th March 2011, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nitininha (although she wants to kill me), to the gang (although they are going to kill me) and to all the readers (who don't want to kill me, I hope).

**Chapter 54: 14** **th** **March 2011, London, England, United Kingdom**

It was dark when Jim came home. Not just the night. The whole house was dark, so probably Sebastian was working outside the house. Mycroft's men got him out of the car, but he freed his arms from them.

 

Although his vision wasn't clear from the sleep deprivation of the last days. After the beatings hadn't helped, Mycroft had tried it with keeping him awake to get informations. The only thing that made Jim talk were informations about Mycroft's own brother and of course this idiot of a Holmes gave them to him.

 

Jim went to the mansion, straighter than he thought he could walk in his condition, but he had his pride and he wouldn't let Mycroft Holmes see how hard his treatment really was. His pride was what made him feel relief of Sebastian's absence. He could listen to the questions of his second-in-command later, too.

 

Sebastian would be furious, his strong jaw would clench just like his fists, maybe he would yell at Jim. Like a mother who thought she’d lost her kid. Jim's tiger was too sentimental.

 

The Consulting Criminal opened the door, luckily Sebastian could repair it. Then he turned on the light that also turned on the light bulbs in the corridor of the first floor. Everything smelled like always, disinfectant, because Jim loved his house clean. Very clean, just like Raoul the houseboy. The entrance also looked like always. White marble, red carpet. Red like the colour of blood. Jim liked the colour, he really did. In two old Chinese vases next to the stairs were fresh flowers, pink orchids, Jim let deliver twice a week. So Sebastian didn't scare the delivery service away. Good boy.

 

But that didn't mean nothing had changed in the almost one month that Jim was away. The first floor, where their play-, bath- and bedroom was looked normal at first sight, but then Jim heard that he was walking around shards. They cracked under his black leather shoes, glanced in the synthetic light of the bulbs and led him to the playroom.

 

Jim turned on the light there, too. The table with the tools was overturned, dildos, vibrators and whips lay around on the ground just like the Saint Andrew's Cross, that was also broken. The mattress of the extra bed was cut, the feathers of the pillow lay everywhere. Jim rubbed his forehead in disbelief. He didn't think anyone had broken into there to destroy their playroom. No, that had been Sebastian's work. Maybe the tiger had gone madder than Jim had anticipated.

 

Anyway, now Jim was back. He could keep Sebastian right again and he wouldn't let him go without punishment for what he had done. But first he had to sleep. His head hurt, his vision was blurred, so he walked out of the room again. The shards he had found came probably from a glass that someone (Sebastian) had thrown against the wall.

 

The bedroom Jim walked in was the same. Blue silk blankets with fitting pillows and a white sheet. Jim yawned automatically. That hadn't happened to him since years. He got undressed, kicking the shoes into an edge, which wasn't his habit, but now, he wasn't into arranging his clothes. Then finally he fell into his bed. Everything there smelled like Sebastian.

 

~Φ~

 

He awoke with a startle because the bed had moved. It was dark in the room, but he could feel the taller body next to him, the heat, could smell the smell of cigarettes, cheap whiskey and manly sweat. The smell calmed him, though he would never admit it.

 

Arms wrapped around Jim's hip, pulling him closer to the strong chest of his tiger, who didn't say anything. Jim had thought, he would have to listen to reproofs, how much Sebastian had worried, but nothing.

 

The sniper hid his face in Jim's neck. His hot breath stroke Jim's skin and it felt surprisingly comfortable. Sebastian was still the only human beside who Jim could fall asleep, which he immediately did.

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian was a okay-ish cook, good enough for his own and for most other people's taste, but mostly not for Jim. At least he put oil in the water for pasta, which was after all very stupid, because it didn’t let the sauce sticking to the noodles. But Sebastian's scrambled eggs were great. Really.

 

Most people just put salt in it, sometimes pepper, but Sebastian used both, paprika, nutmeg and a twist of milk. It was delicious, even better after the days Mycroft had let his men give Jim shitty food. Still he didn't eat faster or take bigger bites than usually. Anyway Sebastian was watching him, chewing his toast slowly.

 

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?” He asked after a while frowning.

Jim looked up. “Just Mycroft.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“I told you 'I’d come back.”

“Yeah... it was a quite sentimental message.”

“No it wasn't.”

Sebastian smiled. “Aye, it was. But anyway. Was it planned?”

“That he got me? I made a message for this case.”

“So it was planned. Did you send me away to go shopping because of it?”

“You already know the answer.”

“I would like to hear it.”

The Consulting Criminal gazed at his sniper. “Don't overestimate yourself, Moran,” he growled low and dangerously.

Sebastian sighed, but dropped the subject. “Okay, everything went fine while you were away.”

“Of course it did. My best man was in charge.”

“Sweet-talk doesn't suit you, boss,” but pride glanced in the tiger's eyes.

“Speaking of what happened while I was away... What happened with our playroom?”

 

Guilt flickered about Sebastian's face before he looked away. He flushed a little bit, which looked cute, but Jim wasn't into cute. Too late he understood that Sebastian flushed because he was angry.

 

“You were gone without any word! I was angry.”

“So you destroyed everything?”

“Yes, and?” The guilt was vanished, instead of it Jim could see the pure anger his little kitten imprisoned into himself, the madness. “I thought, you wouldn't come back!”

“But I did! And you know what that means,” Jim continued hissing. “I'll punish you until you can't sit for weeks!”


	56. 14th March 2011, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian deserves punishment, thinks Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part is obviously from the video that Jim uploaded after he hacked John's blog (for the people who don't remember it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=enIwRGc8XlM ). The rest is explicit. Thanks goes to nitininha for correcting the text, the gang from the chat (who didn't kill me yet) and to all the other readers. Have fun!

**Chapter 55: 14** **th** **March 2011, London, England, United Kingdom**

The 221 Baker Street was empty. Mrs Hudson was with her boyfriend or affair or whatever at Speedy's and Sherlock and John were in Baskerville to solve the secret about the big monster hound. Boring, if someone asked Jim, but no one did.

 

So, when the said criminal entered the house, the camera he brought with him turned on. He knew he didn't have to be quiet, to be careful. He just had to be quick, because the smell of apple pie in the corridor told him that Mrs Hudson had said pie in the oven. She wouldn't stay too long at the Speedy's. Glorious Mrs Hudson wouldn't let the pie burn.

 

“Helloooo,” Jim sing-sang when he took the stairs to the famous flat, the only one flat in London that wouldn't be dull. Hopefully.

 

On one of the armchairs (Watson's, so traditional) lay a pillow with the British flag. Boring little soldier, so loyal to his country, so different than Sebastian. Sherlock's looked like the famous Detective himself, clean, blank, black. How often had Jim seen him in that thing? Thinking, bored, playing with his brother? Very often. No wonder that Sebastian thought Jim was obsessed with Holmes. Maybe he was right. Probably he was. In these things Sebastian was very clever.

 

Jim went further to the wooden table in the room, at two sides, vis-à-vis chairs. The accessories on both sides of the table showed him where Sherlock and where John sat mostly (although he had already known it, he had enough cameras there). Determined, he went to Sherlock's side, a sheet with notes lay there. So many, too many notes. Composers, artists, musicians, booooring! Just like the things which lay in the shelf between table and wall. Boring, boring, boring. Oh, but that was interesting. A skull with headphones!

 

“Good god.”

 

The shelf on the other side was full of books, books, books. So many books about everything that was a little bit interesting and books about things, which were boring. He turned around walking to the fireplace, on which a letter was pinned by a knife. Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, what thought little Watson about his madness? And about the skull? Thanks to Mycroft, Jim knew that Sherlock never had friends who let him just talk, even John Hamish Watson judged him sometimes for it (for example, when Sherlock deduced that Jim from IT, Molly's boyfriend, was gay). So probably the skull was a nice dialogue partner. Well, more a monologue partner. Anyway. on one of the walls hang another skull as a painting with turquoise background.

 

“More skulls,” Jim mumbled.

 

Pictures and bullets of different calibres and kinds. A Rubik's cube with numbers instead of colours, great. The skull on the fireplace again, the painting and then it was time.

 

“Time to go, time to go,” Jim whispered, before he went through the door of 221b Baker Street.

 

~Φ~

 

When Jim came home he found his tiger like he had left him in the bedroom.

 

Saliva dropped from Sebastian's chin. The gag didn't let him swallow right, so it was running from his mouth. He looked beautiful. The eyes running around unsettled without seeing anything, the blond hair a mess, the hands tied at the back, the other end of the rope around his feet, the ass lifted and fucked by a vibrator, while an iron prison didn't allow him to get hard. His thighs were shaking, because if he would sit down, the vibrator would fuck him harder, too hard, too deep probably. Jim had left him like this for now... ah, yes, three hours!

 

Though the view was fucking pretty, he was still angry with his kitten. Sebastian had destroyed their room, so he deserved this punishment. Stupid little tiger.

 

Jim thought one moment what he could do to make it worse. And then he had an idea. He went out of the room to get one of the whips of the chaotic room and the bludgeon Sebastian loved so much.

 

“Wakey, wakey!” Jim shouted when he came back into the bedroom.

 

Automatically, Sebastian straightened up a little bit when he heard him. Good soldier-boy. His eyes needed a moment to focus on Jim, but when they finally did, the pupil widened. Because of fear or excitement, Jim wasn't sure. Maybe both.

 

“You had been a very bad, bad boy while I had been away, hadn't you?”  
Sebastian just could nod and moan against the gag. A delicious noise.

Jim laughed while he was going to Sebastian's back, freeing his hands. “On hands and knees, tiger,” he commanded with a blank voice, no anger in it, no love, just nothing.

Of course his sniper did, but when his body moved, the vibrator also moved, so he groaned desperately against the gag. He wanted to become hard, he wanted it so much, but he couldn't.

 

His boss didn't care at all when he put down the bludgeon in front of Sebastian's face, so he could see what was waiting for him. Then Jim grabbed the famous cat-o'-nine-tail, before he struck out and beat Sebastian's butt with it. The freed hands of his tiger grabbed the sheet of the bed, his legs and arms shaking. With every new punch he jerked, moved the vibrator every time, he sounded so desperate.

 

After ten hits with the whip, Jim walked around to his face again, to get the bludgeon. Just for a second he wanted to look into Sebastian's eyes, but then he saw the tears. Sebastian had never cried during their games, but now he did. Jim wiped away the tears.

 

“It's over soon,” he found himself saying softly.

Sebastian nodded and Jim gave him a kiss on the nose before he took the bludgeon.

 

The Irish man went back to his position next to Sebastian's ass, then he struck out with the bludgeon, hit Sebastian, who actually sobbed against the gag, but Jim didn't let that stop him. Ten hits like with the whip. After the last one Sebastian's arms got so weak that he fell on his chest. Jim freed his feet, Sebastian's penis, which was too red from the cage, and finally put out the vibrator and the gag. Sebastian fell to the side, mumbling excuses.

 

“I'm so sorry sir, I really am...”

Jim smiled undressing himself. “Scoot, tiger,” he ordered and Sebastian did before Jim lay down next to him.

He wiped away the tears on Sebastian's cheeks. The ex-soldier leaned in to the touch before he said with a husky voice: “I want you to fuck me.”

 

Jim hesitated for a moment Jim, but then he rolled over Sebastian's body kissing his sniper's dry lips. Of course Sebastian replied the kiss, opening his legs to let Jim between them. Jim dug his fingers in Sebastian's dark blond hair while he watched his face. Sebastian had his eyes closed, satisfied with the kiss and Jim remembered how good Sebastian was in bed, how desperate he took everything Jim could give him. It was amazing.

 

And how fast he was hard again! Jim rocked his hip against Sebastian, who dug his fingernails in Jim's back moaning desperately. The pain made Jim more impatient, he stopped the stupid rocking his hip against Sebastian, to put said one's feet on his shoulders. Automatically the fingers on his back vanished, Sebastian lay on his back. His eyes were blue, the widened pupils made them darker than they usually were. And then Jim fucked Sebastian. He glided in him fast and hard, didn't pause, just fucked him, struck the prostate. Sebastian didn't seem to care, he seemed to enjoy it, screamed out his lust. Jim bit on his lower lip until it bled, because it was too sexy and he didn't want it to be over. Not yet. Not after all this time. Almost one month.

 

“Ah... Jim, oh yes, yes, fuck!” Sebastian screamed while Jim was ramming his penis in him.

 

And when Jim rubbed Sebastian's hard cock it got even worse. Sebastian's body pressed against Jim and they both were so fucking close. Then relief. Sperm was between their bodies, in Sebastian, everywhere.

 

Jim wanted to get out of Sebastian to clean them, but Sebastian stopped him. “Could you...” The ex-soldier chewed on his lower lip, before he continued: “Could you just stay like this?” He didn't look at Jim while he said that.

“Of course,” Jim said automatically, staring at his tiger before he made it himself comfortable on Sebastian's chest.

“I really missed you,” Sebastian whispered.

“I know,” Jim replied.


	57. April 2nd 2011, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the best birthday Sebastian has had in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Jim was bitching around and didn't do what I wanted, so if you wanna complain about it, it's his fault. Thanks goes to nitininha, apologize and thanks to the gang and to the readers.

**Chapter 56: April 2** **nd** **2011, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

Sebastian lit a cigarette when they left the church. 

 

In the morning, before the mass would start, the believers would find the priest who had tried to fuck him ages ago. It had been a present from Jim for his birthday. A really nice one. Sebastian couldn't wait to be home and to show Jim how grateful he was. Blood and torture made them both horny. Just another sign for how fucked up they were. Although... Jim's face didn't show any emotion when they sat in the car, which was driven by Kevin as always. Sebastian's boss just stared out of the window, so Sebastian, who sat to his left, couldn't see his face.

 

“Everything okay, sir?” He asked softly. 

Jim turned to face him, tilted his head a little bit. “Of course it is, tiger.” 

 

The grin on his lips made Sebastian shiver. He wanted Jim desperately. So he leaned forward, stopped short before Jim's lips, so his boss could kiss him, not otherwise. And Jim did. Hungrily like they hadn't had sex this afternoon, well... yesterday afternoon. It was after midnight, so it was a new day, the second April 2011, Sebastian's 34th birthday. Not that it was important for Sebastian. He didn't care for this date since he was old enough to understand that it was also his mother's date of death and before he understood that no one else cared about it, either. Even Jim just made presents for this day to make Sebastian feel special and maybe because this fucking sadist enjoyed it as well as Sebastian. 

 

At some point, Jim sat between Sebastian's legs, still kissing his sniper. His knees pressed Sebastian's legs apart, whose hands unbuttoned Jim's jacket and then his white shirt. Luckily the sedan they were in was big enough to make out. For a moment Sebastian wondered, if this was Jim's plan, before he realized that everything Jim did was planned. 

 

Just one button of Jim's shirt was left, but Sebastian couldn't hold himself. He had to touch the white skin under it. Meanwhile, Jim pressed his right knee against Sebastian's crotch, which made him moan in the kiss. His hands wrapped around Sebastian's throat, just applied pressure a little bit. He parted their lips to see Sebastian grabbing some fresh air. They had never played strangle games before, but Sebastian didn't struggle. He just saw Jim in his black eyes, totally calm. 

 

Fuck, he trusted this little fucker too much. Jim could kill him without batting an eye and he, Sebastian, would let him. 

 

_ Because you are such a good kitten, aren't you? _ Jim's voice said in his head. It had never left him. 

_ Yeah, and you know how to use it _ _ ,  _ Sebastian answered while his hand was wandering around Jim's nipple.

 

He watched his boss’ lips parting when he let out a silent sigh. His vision blurred when his second hand glided about Jim's other nipple. Sebastian couldn't think right, the only thing he thought the whole time was Fuck me, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckme! Bright spots danced in front of his eyes before Jim finally let him go. God, they both were so hard. Sebastian could see the contour of Jim's penis in his well fitting pants. Finally the car stopped. They left it hurriedly after Jim had buttoned his shirt and jacket again.  
  
Outside, Jim straightened his suit and one moment he looked like he would fuck Sebastian, right here, in front of all people's eyes, it vanished. Now he moved slower, so Sebastian had to do the same. It was frustrating, because he wanted to be fucked. It didn't matter who could see him, but he knew Jim would never let anyone, but him and other pets see what a man he was in the bedroom. He was too professional. 

 

Fortunately it changed, when he had closed the door to their hotel room. “Do you want a few watchers, Sebastian?” Jim asked with a low voice. 

“If you want, daddy,” his sniper replied, although he just thought yes, yes, yes. 

Jim pointed to the panorama window. “Get undressed and then stand there. I want you as slutty as possible.”

 

That wasn't something Jim had to repeat. Sebastian took off the gray t-shirt he was wearing and on which the blood of the priest was still sticking. It followed the trainers, socks, dark jeans and finally his underwear. 

 

Meanwhile Jim had left the room. Probably to get some toys. But though he wasn't in the same room as Sebastian, the sniper didn't dare to disobey, so he went to the panorama window. The city lay under him like the first time Jim and he had fucked. Almost nine years, seven he worked very close with Jim, always with the fear of losing him one day. The fear had become worse after Jim had vanished in February. Something in Sebastian's instincts sounded the alarm, though he didn't know why. 

 

Anyway he should concentrate on the present. 

 

He stabilized himself with both hands at the window, while he was presenting his ass for Jim. The door to the bedroom opened, Sebastian could hear it, but not Jim's steps. Deadly silent. And then a wuuutch. The well-known feeling of getting hit by a riding crop met Sebastian between his shoulder blades. He moaned because of the pain and lust, which the pain woke, not that it was long gone. Jim struck out again, Sebastian could hear it. Over and over again he hit him, until Sebastian was so hard, that he wanted to touch himself, although he would never do that. Jim would kill him if he did it without permission. 

 

“If you want to be fucked, beg,” Jim commanded. The dangerous tone in his voice made Sebastian's legs weak. 

“Please, daddy, fuck me, oh please, please, I want you in me, take me. Please, please, I'm begging you, fuck me hard and dry, just do it.”

“Hard and dry, hm?”

“Oh yeah, I want your penis in me so desperately, preparation... just takes too much time. Please, daddy. Boss, I want to be fucked by you against this window, just do it, sir!”

 

Sebastian heard Jim laughing, then he felt a hand on his hip, cold and dry. A zipper was opened, pants and probably underwear fell to the ground. And then this sweet pain. Sebastian clenched his right hand to a fist growling. Jim grabbed his neck to press him down, to dominate him and he didn't even fight back. He couldn't. The humiliation was too good. Like he had begged, Jim fucked him dry and hard. Every time he struck Sebastian's prostate his sniper screamed, just to move his ass against his boss to get him deeper. He needed him deeper. Deeper than possible, but anyway. 

 

~Φ~

 

When Sebastian woke up round about 12 o'clock after a tough night, Jim wasn't in the bed anymore. 

“Jim,” he called his boss, but he didn't get any reply, so he looked for him, but he just found a file with jobs and a note.

 

_ Sent Jack a message that you’ll both celebrate your birthday tomorrow. On Monday you start to work in America again. XOXO Jim. _

 

Sebastian felt sick. His legs stopped working so he fell more or less on the sofa in the lounge, where he had found the file. 

 

J im had dumped him. Jim had fucking dumped him. His head was empty, he couldn't think anything except  _ Jim has dumped me.  _

_ Of course he had, did you think he would stay with you forever? You are so stupid and dull and boring and Sherlock Holmes is so much more interesting than you!  _ Jim's voice in his head scoffed. 

“Shut up,” Sebastian answered, “shut up, shutupshutupshutup! Shut the fuck up!” 

 

But now Sebastian realised that he hadn't thought it. He had shouted it. His hands were shaking. 


	58. April 3rd 2011, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian thinks he will never hear something from Jim again. Unfortunately he is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A third chapter, because I was begged. Thank to nitininha and the gang and the readers. I hope you'll have fun...or something.

**Chapter 57: April 3** **rd** **2011, Boston, Massachusetts, USA**

He shouldn't be here. He should follow Jim to England, should ask him what the fuck he was planning, but he didn't. He was sitting there in this strange flat. It wasn't the one he had almost lived before he had gone to the army, before everything had happened. Jack had moved out of that flat years ago.  Their flat , a quiet voice in Sebastian corrected him. Jack's, Kevin's and his. This flat was Jack's and Mary's. It was cleaner, decorated, nice. Really nice indeed. Not rich like the mansion he had lived in for years. 

 

Jack and Mary talked about something, probably about their wedding. Sebastian had just sat when they had announced it. His younger cousin had shown him the ring, a golden one with a little stone. Nothing special, but beautiful. Sebastian had rather cried, but instead he had smiled and congratulated the young couple. Now and then he nodded, like he would listen, but he didn't. He couldn't. 

 

“And, Sebastian, what's up in your life?” Jack startled him out of his thoughts.

Sebastian blinked. “Sorry, what?” 

“What's up, man? You haven't called for ages and now you want to celebrate your birthday with us. What's going on?”

“I just have a few free days,” Sebastian lied, without batting an eye. “And it was time to do something outside the business.”

Jack raised a brow. “Are you gonna tell us what kind of business that is?”

“Jack, I told you already that it's nothing special. Jim... I mean, Mr Moriarty has a few clubs and restaurants, nothing special.”

“But he is so rich he needs a bodyguard?”

“Yeah, obviously, doesn't pay me bad.” Sebastian took a sip of his beer in front of him.  And the sex is awesome , he continued in his head. The beer was empty and he stared at it until Mary took it. 

“So,” she said, “what are we doing for the rest of the evening or do you wanna just sit here and drink beer?”

“We could go to a pub,” Jack suggested shrugging. 

“Works for me,” Sebastian replied.

“Good!” Mary jumped from her chair, taking Sebastian's and Jack's empty bottles. “You boys get your jackets and shoes. I'm bringing the bottles away.”  


Her hips moved a little bit, when she walked. Not in the too sexy way, just a little bit. Sebastian noticed that Jack was staring at her. He couldn't be angry about it. At least she was Jack's fiancé now. Strangely enough. Jack would marry, Sebastian was still single (he couldn't count Jim as a real relationship, could he?). 

 

“Do you ever want something like that?” Jack asked when they got up. 

Sebastian shrugged. “I don't think so. Doesn't suit me, I think.”

“Hm,” the teacher made. “Maybe not. And you have your boss.”

Sebastian laughed, but it sounded bitter in his own ears. “Yeah.”  


Jack looked strangely at him, but didn't say anything. Maybe he felt that Sebastian didn't want to talk about J-... Moriarty. He had forbidden himself to name his boss with his first name. It felt too... close. And they weren't close, they had never been. 

 

Instead of talking with him, Jack lay an arm around Sebastian and led him into the corridor, where their jackets and shoes were. 

 

Maybe ten minutes later they were in the pub. It was a small one, not so many guests at this time, so they got a nice table in a corner. Jack and Mary sat down next to each other while Sebastian was getting Guinness for them all. He just got the three glasses when he looked up to the TV that hang here. His heart stopped for a moment. 

 

“C-Can you make it louder?” He asked, his voice and hands shaking, so he pressed the last ones on the bar.

The barkeeper nodded disinterested and grabbed the remote control to make the television louder. 

_“...to steal the crown jewels, broke into the Bank of England and opened the Pentonville Prison at the same time,”_ the reporter of CNN told, while they were showing how Ji-... Moriarty was brought into a police car. 

It was Mary who came to him. Probably because she wanted to know why he didn't come over with the Guinness. “Hey -,” she started, but he just made “psht,” because he wanted to hear what else they were saying.

 

They showed a policeman, to be more correct a Detective Inspector, Sebastian already knew, because he was one of the best friends of Sherlock Holmes. Something with L.

 

_“ We don't know yet why he broke in into the Tower of London, the Bank of England and the Pentonville Prison. It's... just, we have him, he was careless enough to let us catch him. Now we have to wait what the court brings.”_

Sebastian stared at the TV. Again and again he saw the name Moriarty in the news ticker. 

“That's...” Mary started to say, when she followed his eyes. 

“I have to make a call,” Sebastian excused himself automatically before he went out of the pub. He felt that his cousin stared at him, but he didn't stop. Damn it, Jim, he thought when he stood outside. 

 

With shaking hands he tried to light a cigarette, but it didn't work very well, so he put it back in the package before he really tried to call Jim.

 

_“ This person is not available at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone,_ _ ” _ a female voice at the other end told him. 

_ Of course I'm not available. I let them catch me because I'm so bored, bored, bored!  _ Jim's voice in his head didn't make it easier. 

_ Shut up, I must think, _ Sebastian answered the voice while he was stepping from one foot to the other. 

 

He should have followed Jim, but his orders told him to stay. Even now he didn't know if he should disobey and follow Jim to England or stay and do what Jim told him. Jim... He shouldn't even think about the name. Moriarty, that was the name, that was his boss. Jim was... was a mistake he had made. It was raining. He realized that when he felt a warm hand through the wet fabric of his hoodie. 

 

“Come in, Sebastian,” Jack suggested softly. 

 

Sebastian stared at the rain, at the gray buildings, the gray street. Everything was gray. It was like every color was gone except gray. The white marble stairs with the red carpet, the pink orchids that Jim let deliver once or twice a week, dark blue and beige suites tailored by Vivienne Westwood, the stupid details with the skulls on a tie. 

 

He let Jack turn him around, pulling him into the warm pub again. There Sebastian finally got his Guinness. But it wasn't enough. It didn't have any effect on Sebastian, so he ordered whiskey for him and more whiskey and more and more and more. 

 

_ Ah, cheap whiskey. Just like the father, right? You are so pathetic, tiger, so stupid and dull and boring and oh god, no wonder I didn't want to play with you anymore. No one could ever love you. Not even Jack. See, he fell in love with your sweet, little cousin, because he is nice and cute and not fucked up like you. Like us, well, like you. You are just not fucked up enough, you never were, you'll never be. You are ordinary. Not like me. I'm special, I'm so special that even you couldn't resist me. Even you, who I thought was free from sentiments, you of all people had to fall in love with me. _

_ Hihihi, don't look at me like this! It's not my fault that you are like this.  _

_ Look, kitten, it's raining, it's pouring, Sebastian is boring! _

 

~Φ~

 

Sebastian woke up on a strange couch. He didn't have a headache. It had been ages ago, he had had one from drinking. No, he just felt sick. Sick and lonely. So fucking lonely. He hid his face into his hands when a dry sob came from his throat. 

 

“I didn't want you to fall in love with me,” Jim had said once.

 

Sebastian just wished he hadn't done everything to make that happen. 


	59. 20th April 2011, Somewhere in the South Downs, Sussex, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When freedom feels like a prison...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few information you get in the notes at the end. Here are just the typical thank yous. So thanks to nitininha who is responsible for all mistakes which are still in the text and for all mistakes she made (sorry, darling, you know, I love your work!), to the gang, who will kill me probably (would anyone please call the cops?) and to all the readers.

**Chapter 58: 20** **th** **April 2011, Somewhere in the South Downs, Sussex, United Kingdom**

One day. One day he was there and he already felt more caged than in the prison in London. Boring, boring, boring. Not even Sebastian was there to distract him, although... it was part of the plan and it was a brilliant plan. The final problem.

 

Jim pivoted with the right foot while he was staring at the telly, which showed a report of his case.

 

 _“After James Moriarty has been caught in the act and after he hasn't had any defence, the jury has had to find him guilty,”_ the reporter told in a constrained objective tone. Jim had broken in two sanctuaries of the British nation. Of course British reporters weren't objective! _“But to the surprise of the judge and the audience, the Jury has said James Moriarty is not guilty.”_

 

They showed pictures of him, of his arrest and when he was brought into the courthouse. He looked good in both clips. And of course they had to mention Sherlock. Sherlock who would think Jim really had a code (thank you Johann Sebastian Bach!). Sherlock, Sherlock, boring Sherlock, bored Sherlock, cutie Sherlock, sexy Sherlock, Sherlock with a hat, Sherlock with John, Sherlock, Sherlock.

 

Jim's head never stood still.

 

He was constantly drumming his fingers on his armchair's arms. From where did he know the song? Where, where, where? How was the text going? Text, text, text. In his head Jim was going to his music room, everything about music was there: His skills in playing piano, all the composers, Bach, Beethoven, Haydn, Tschaikowski, Vivaldi, Strauss, Verdi, Wagner, concerts and just little pieces of music, Bee Gees, 70s, no, no, no! Not here, not here! Out of the music room. Sherlock? Maybe. Jim entered the 221b Baker Street in his head, but skulls, notes, jumpers, dressing gowns, no music, no music in this form. Oh! Sebastian.

 

Sebastian's room in Jim's mind palace wasn't special. White marble stairs with a red carpet like everywhere in Jim's head led him to the room. Two Chinese vases with pink orchids stood next to the rustic door . The room itself looked very much like the kitchen in which Sebastian killed his father. A military jacket with the eagle on the shoulders, which gave the colonels in America the pet name full bird, hang on one of the hard chairs. The other different things to the real kitchen were the photos. Photos of Sebastian with his rifles, smiling (he looked so evil when he smiled), laughing, sleeping, eating, naked, fully dressed, at the Saint Andrew's Cross, fucked by a vibrator, fucked by Jim... So many memories.

 

Jim went to the old-fashioned radio and turned it on before he sat down at the wooden table. Sebastian loved rock music and metal, sometimes he also heard punk or Irish folk songs. He mocked Jim once because Jim was so in love with music from the 70s, but in fact Sebastian could be even worse with his music. Especially when he was cooking...

 

“ _Two little boys had two little toys  
Each had a wooden horse,”_ no, that wasn't the right one.

 _“As I was goin' over  
The Cork and Kerry mountains,” _ nope, definitely not Whiskey in the Jar either.

The Subways? _“Like a fool I'm failing falling  
In a web I'm trapped and calling.” _ No, no, no, no.

 

 _“Everybody knows_  
 _Everybody knows_  
 _That you cradle the sun_  
 _Living in remorse, sky is over.”_ Ah yes, that was it. That was the song which stuck in Jim's head.

 

He remembered the beginning. Piano. It had confused him because Sebastian wasn't the kind of the guy who listened to classic music, but then the singing started and Sebastian joined, of course. The voice of Serj Tankian and Sebastian mixed in Jim's memory.

 

_“Don't you want to hold me, baby?  
Disappointed, going crazy.”_

 

Sebastian had smiled at Jim while he was singing these lines. Like he made a joke just he himself could understand, but of course Jim did, too. It was too obvious that Sebastian wanted to be loved, although he had always known that Jim wasn't capable of this kind of feelings.

 

“Sir?” One moment he thought Sebastian had followed him, but then he opened his eyes, it was just Kevin.

 

His red hair went grey already while Jim's was still dark like the day they had met. So many years ago. The jacket of Kevin's suit was buttoned wrong; obviously he had buttoned it hurriedly. He stood straight and shaking like he had done in front of Father Michael ages ago. With the difference that Jim paid him. Not as good as Sebastian or most of his other people, but probably better than every PA everywhere else. In his hands he held five boxes. All big enough for guns and of course guns were what they contained.

 

Jim pointed at the coffee table in front of him, so Kevin put them down there. Side by side he put them in front of Jim before he opened the boxes one by one. His boss was still quiet, but looking at the guns. After all boxes were opened, Kevin stepped back. He looked nervous, maybe because he knew for what Jim needed a gun, maybe because it was just Kevin, maybe because of both.

 

The first gun was a FN Five-seveN, Sebastian had one of them too, the second a L106A1, the gun John Hamish Watson brought with him when he came from Afghanistan. Sig Sauer was nice, but... not what Jim wanted. Especially not when Watson used it. The Beretta, which was the next one, was more his taste of a gun. A 92FS Inox, Its chrome finished... The Glock 17s of the second and third generations were so boring and dull beside it. He took the gun, weighed it in his hand. It lay perfectly in his hand. Kevin jerked when Jim aimed him.

 

“Don't be stupid, idiot, there is no ammo in this fucking gun. I'm not even able to kill you with it... well, except if I try to batter you to death, but then I would probably use the paperweight in my home office. Also, when I'll kill you, I'll stab you, no, no, no! I'll skin you, wouldn't that be fun, Kevin?”

Sweat was running down Kevin's face. How scared he was. Jim laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful song I used in this chapter is of course Serj Tankian's The sky is over. Everyone should hear it, everyone should love it. Just kidding.  
> All guns I wrote about are in the series or in this fic (Sebby's FN, John's Sig Sauer, Henry's Beretta, Greg's and Irene's Glocks (Greg's is the third generation, Irene's the second which were in her safe)).


	60. 15th June 2011, London, England, United Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE day. Jim is excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter (and an epilogue) before the end... I'm sorry that it ends in this way, but to be honest I planned it was favourite ending for the story, since I started to write it. Also there will be a sequel. Thanks goes to nitininha who doesn't want to kill me anymore, to the guys from the chat who still wanna kill me and to the readers. Have fun.

**Chapter 59: 15** **th** **June 2011, London, England, United Kingdom**

Though it was THE day, Jim had gotten mad. The last two months had been too boring, he had been in such a bad temper, he had been so angry... so angry, so angry, so... 

 

He made a small cut in his forehead. The blood dyed the grey curls red just like before, months or years ago. It was running down the forehead about the scalp, spread into the hair. Slowly and with the help of his knife Jim removed the skin, bit by bit. 

 

“I told you I'd skin you, but you didn't listen,” Jim sing-sang to the head he had skinned, between his knees.

 

Kevin looked up at him through pale eyes, so normal, so boring, so dead. He didn't breath anymore. He hadn't breathed for minutes since Jim stabbed into his throat with a big knife. Well, he had tried to breathe again, had rattled and bubbled blood and then he had stopped. The funny noises just stopped. That was boring. It really was!  
  
“Even dead you are useless, Kev, boring, boring, boring,” Jim muttered more to himself than to the corpse that had been Kevin before. 

 

Now he wasn't Kevin anymore, was he? The big theological question, was the human still human when he was dead? What happened to the  _ immortal soul _ _ ?  _ If something like that existed. Jim didn't believe that. He never had. After the death came nothing for him. That sounded boring, but nothing meant also that there was no boredom, no thoughts which didn't let him sleep. His brilliant mind would just stop working. It would be a relief.

 

Carefully, he pulled the skin from Kev's cheekbones, from his nose... The skin full of freckles, dry and blowzy. Not beautiful like Sebastian's. 

 

Jim stopped. 

 

He had thought a lot about Sebastian in the last months. Very often he had visited him in his room in Jim's mind palace. His room was one of the few which weren't just boring or dull or stupid. In the years Sebastian had worked for him, Jim had become fond of him. Sebastian had been his favourite pet, maybe because he had taken everything that Jim could give him. Maybe because he came to Jim because he actually liked him. 

 

Poor little tiger. It wouldn't be easy for him. 

 

Jim's mobile buzzed. A text from Sherlock. Nice!

 

__Come and play.  
Bart’s Hospital rooftop.  
SH  
PS. Got something of yours you might want back. 

 

The game was on!

 

~Φ~

 

The Beretta was pushed against Jim's chest. It had been the gun which almost ended Henry Knight's and his therapist's lives. The H.O.U.N.D. project of Doctor Robert Frankland had been expensive, but he hadn't wanted to stop it. When Jim had found out about the project with a drug, which should make super-soldiers (although he had known about the naughty side-effects) he had decided to support it with money. Frankland, almost bankrupt, had been grateful for this opportunity. Jim remembered his obedient manner when he had visited Baskerville once. 

 

And then the question: “I... probably you already know, sir, but I have this friend...”  
  
Yeah, Jim had already known about Henry Knight, whose father had been Frankland's friend and who had been murdered by the scientist for the greater good of the project. 

 

“He does therapy at the moment... He could find out what really happened,” Frankland had explained. 

Jim had given him the Beretta 92FS Inox, which lay at his chest now. “Take care of it,” he had ordered, although he had known Frankland wouldn't do it with his own hands. Sentiments, guilt, human feelings. But now Frankland and the project were past and the present was so much more exciting.

 

He looked at the woman who sat at the other side of their table in this little café. The parasol about their heads made her bright blond dyed hair dim. Her eyes glanced in anger, an expression he already knew from her closest living relative. But at least she looked like a very normal woman. She was wearing a grey coat, because it wasn't warm for the season although the sun was shining. At least it was unbuttoned just like his own black coat so he could see the lilac shirt under it. 

 

“Did you tell him about your plan?” She asked hissing. 

He raised his brows while he was taking a sip of hot tea. Not until the hot fluid was down his throat he answered: “That's none of your business, Miss Moran... or how is the name nowadays? Morstan?”

The corners of her mouth twitched. 

Jim smiled provocative. “A stupid disguise, too close to the truth, but... maybe that is the clever thing. You are British now, your first name isn't Elizabeth anymore, it's now your second, while you use the name of your mother, well, the English version of your mother's name as a first name. Mary.” He grimaced. “So ordinary. What would your brother think?”

“It's none of his business.”

“So aren't my plans,” he laughed. 

“You'll break him.”

“He isn't so easy to break. He already experienced more tragic losses, stop underestimating him.”

“You are defending him.”

“I just know about his survival instincts.”

“Hm,” the woman, who had been Elizabeth Moran once, made. “I hope for you, you are right.”

He smiled at her, knowing that she didn't know his entire plan. “You couldn't take revenge, could you?”

“You are a sadistic bastard.”

“Yes, indeed. And you sound like your brother.” 

 

~Φ~

 

The suit was ruined by fake blood. Jim loosened the Westwood-tie, feeling constricted in the small cabinet of the public restroom. He put the suit into a blue plastic bag before he pulled out his new clothes from a black overnight back. It wasn't even close to his suit. A brown cardigan in form of a suit jacket (even with cuff buttons), a knitted tie in a similar colour, green shirt and black pants. 

 

When he came out of the cabinet, throwing the plastic bag with his beloved suit in the trash he looked into the mirror. Fake blood stuck at his forehead. With a little bit water he washed it away.

 

Jim Moriarty was dead. The man in the mirror he looked at was Davin Smith, new professor of Mathematics at the DCU, Dublin City University. Davin Smith was in the same age as Moriarty, but a boring character. He was insecure, shy and metrosexual, he loved to teach bright, young things and was a mathematical mastermind, but awkward in socialising. His dream girl was a woman in her 30s who loved to stay home with him and watch telly, and who wanted kids like he wanted. 

 

In front of the mirror he lost his straight position, didn't even make eye contact with his picture in the mirror for long. Jim Moriarty was dead, committed suicide, when he shot himself in the head on the rooftop of the Saint Bartholomew's Hospital. Jim Moriarty was dead. Long lived Davin Smith. 


	61. June 26th 2011, Dublin, Leinster, Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People die. That's what they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The grand final. Hate messages to me. Thanks to nitininha, who corrected every chapter for me, the gang, because they had to hear me complaining about Jim, Sebastian and the world, and of course to all the readers. Tomorrow comes the first chapter of the sequel.

**Chapter 60: June 26** **th** **2011, Dublin, Leinster, Ireland**

The smell of incense made his head heavy, the litany reminded him of his childhood in South Boston in the Irish-Catholic church, every child in the children's home had had to visit. There weren't a lot of people, two women, one younger than Jim, probably his sister (although Jim had said he didn't have siblings, but to be honest, what had Sebastian known about his boss, that couldn't be a lie?). She had to be the person who called him. The other woman was older, Jim's mother. Maybe. She sat in a wheelchair and didn't seem like she realized what happened there. The other six people could be everything. One was old enough to be Jim's grandfather, but he didn't sit with the family, so it wasn't probable. Three were in Jim's age, maybe old classmates. Kevin, Jim's PA, wasn't here. Probably he was glad that he was free finally. Sebastian couldn't be mad at him. The other two (except from the women in the first bench, just men were present) were older, somewhere between 40 and 50 years old, one of them seemed to be the caregiver for Jim's mother, Sebastian guessed. And of course the priest who led the funeral. A guy in his 60s. For Irish-Catholic family it was a shame, Jim would think there were too many people. Maybe. Maybe not. 

 

In the last two and a half months Sebastian had realized that he hadn't known much about his boss. Not even his full name: James Isaac Moriarty. Or his birthday: 21 st October 1978. Nothing about his sister, Janine.

 

Said one had called him at the 17 th . One day before Sebastian had already seen the news about Sherlock Holmes' suicide. The same moment he had heard that Holmes was dead; he had known that Jim was too. Jim couldn't have lived in a world without the only human who had occupied his brain enough. Though the press had still said Richard Brook, who was a persona of Jim to convince the press Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty were faked, was vanished. Sebastian had thought one secret service and with it Mycroft Holmes would have the corpse, but then Janine had called. 

 

_“ Sebastian Moran?” _ She had asked, her voice shaking. 

Sebastian had just stood up to get a beer, but the tone in her voice had let him fall back on his couch. “Jim?” He hadn't managed to say more.

_“ Yes, I'm sorry. My... I'm Janine Moriarty, he was my brother.”_

_ Of course I had lied, I had never said the truth, _ Jim in his head had said.

For a moment the ex-soldier had struggled to get his voice back. Finally he could say: _ “How?” _

Silence.  _ “I'm not sure if I should tell you that... Jim told me not to...” _

“He is dead now, he doesn't care about it anymore.” 

_ Puh, finally free from this boring, boring world. Can you imagine how it was for me, tiger? All these dull people, even you! _

_“ He... shot himself in the head,” _ she had told him after she had hesitated for another moment.

Since then Sebastian had nightmares.

 

He saw his b-...Ji-...Moriarty... Yeah, he saw Moriarty in his nightmares. He lay in a black body bag in a muggy military tent. A joke, a terrible joke. People were around him, telling him what had happened. Then he and Jim were on a rooftop, around them, London; beautiful, urban, overcrowded London. Jim's London. Suddenly Jim lay on the ground, Sebastian ran to him, trying to stop the blood running out of Jim's head, the gray brain. Crying he sang for Jim, sang about two little boys who grew up to fight in war, about a lady, who was a devil with a kiss kiss bang bang, about a dark haired woman in the Raglan Road, about whiskey in a jar and so many things. 

 

In his dreams he cried. In reality he couldn't because he felt dead already. Dead people didn't cry. Dead people couldn't cry. Also it was  _ pathetic, sentimental _ _ ,  _ like the voice in his head always said. Jim's voice. Though the real Jim was gone, dead in a coffin on the altar, his voice stuck in Sebastian's head. Maybe until he died himself. 

 

He had thought about it the last days. About dying. He didn't know how often he had held his FN in his hands, staring at it like it could give answers for questions he didn't even know. And then Jim's voice. Always Jim's voice. He didn't want to hear it anymore. It made him miss Jim even more. God, he shouldn't miss this bastard, this fucking, sadistic bastard. In the head! That had been planned, Jim had known it. 

 

In his very weak moments Sebastian imagined Jim would come back, that he would punish him for his feelings. Oh God, Jim could batter him to death, he wouldn't complain. Instinctively Sebastian would protect his head, but he wouldn't fight back. Why should he now? He had never fought back. Not Jim. Younger, smaller, weaker Jim who he could kill so easily if he weren't so loyal.

 

Sebastian was wondering if Jim would have liked it if his sniper had killed him. Maybe he had wanted it, but Sebastian had hesitated too long. Maybe that was the reason why Jim had dumped him, why he had killed himself. 

 

The sniper lay his hands on his legs, dug his fingers in the muscles under them to stop them shaking. A sniper with shaking hands.  _ That _ was pathetic. 

 

_ Like I said,  _ Jim in his head started talking,  _ you are weak and sentimental and pathetic. I mean, you are mourning about a sadistic asshole, a psychopath. Do you remember the time he had fucked you on the table in your father's kitchen, after you had tortured and killed said father? That was mental! You had known it. You had seen how fucked up he was, but you just couldn't stop, could you? Just stop loving him. You can't even now. But he, oh, he who was the love of your love. Probably. He never cared, did he? For him you always were a gun, an instrument to kill people, when you were lucky he saw you as his toy or pet. You loved that, didn't you? Being the lovely kitten of Moriarty, being dominated in the bedroom and torturing and killing people outside. Being manly.  _

_ Shut up,  _ Sebastian himself replied.  _ You are dead, don't you see the coffin? _

_ Oh, but it's not really me who is talking with you, it's yourself. Because you are right. I'm dead. Bullet in the head. Boom. _

_ You died. _

_ That's what people do! _

 

It seemed like it had taken ages to finish the funeral in the church before the coffin got taken by the coffin bearers. They bore it out to the graveyard, followed by Janine, her mother and the caregiver of the mother and then the guests. 

 

Sebastian was surprised how good his legs worked when he stood up to do the same. They felt like they would disobey every second, but they didn't, they bore him to the empty grave. Jim's grave. 

 

The coffin was let down. Jim's mother asked Janine where Jimmy was. Dementia, probably, although she was young for it. Vascular dementia would fit the age maybe. Sebastian couldn't help himself, he imagined Jim with an illness like that. His brilliant mind would leave him, he wouldn't remember what happened minutes ago, but know about his childhood very well. The ex-soldier asked himself if he would have stayed with Jim, watching him when he lost his mind.

 

_ You would do everything for him. Always. _

 

_ Yes, Sebastian would. It didn't make it easier, did it? _

 

_ He was still there when everyone else was gone. He looked at the grave, imagining Jim in a coffin in the earth rotting, but his instincts took control when he heard someone walking to him. _

 

_ Sebastian looked up and in dark eyes, almost black. His heart and breath stopped for a second, before he realized that he was looking into a woman's face and not Jim's. He stepped back from the grave nervously. _

 

_“ I'm... I'm sorry, I thought...”_

_ “No, I have to apologize,” Janine smiled softly. It was honest, not like Jim's. “I interrupted your saying goodbye.” _

_ He replied the smile slightly. “It's sentimental.” _

_ “He would say that, yes, but he was an arsehole sometimes, didn't understand humans very well.” _

_ “Agree.” _

_ “Can... can I ask what you are planning to do?” _

_ Sebastian shrugged. “I'm out of his things, I think. Maybe I make a vacation to India.” _

_ _“Oh, that sounds nice. I'm going to London,” she raised her hands shaking her head. Probably he had looked at her strange. “Not to do his job. God knows how I hated that he did... these things.”_   
_ _ I did these things to, _ Sebastian thought, but he didn't say it. 

“I have a job offer as Magnussen's PA.”

“Magnussen? The one with the media empire?” Jim had mentioned him once or twice, because Magnussen had wanted illegal information about politicians or famous banker or something like that. 

“Yeah...”

“He is dangerous.”

She still smiled. “So was my brother.”

“Very true.”

“Hm... I have a few things Jim sent me before... before he did this. Your things.”

 

Sebastian remembered mostly clothes which could be still in the mansion he and Jim had shared for years, and his little wooden box. In it was the first bullet he caught in the army, his dog tags, photos of Kevin and Jack...and Jim. The last ones he had taken when Jim wasn't watching, which means mostly when he had been asleep. One of them Sebastian had taken when he had come home from a job in the middle of the night. Sometimes Jim had cuddled with him when he had fallen asleep, but in this night he had grabbed Sebastian's pillow. He had pressed on his chest and in his pajama he had looked like a child. It was one of Sebastian's favorite photos, so he had printed it and put it in the box so Jim couldn't find it. 

 

“Sometimes I forget that he is planning all these things,” he mumbled more to himself than to Janine. 

She linked their arms. “Do you wanna take them now?”

He nodded. “I'm leaving tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

He smiled weakly. “Here is nothing that could hold me.”


	62. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somwhere in India.

**Epilogue**

The hunter went into his humble house. It was built from wood and corrugated metal, it had a ceiling and a bed and it was everything the hunter needed except his weapons. He had three sniper rifles, which helped him when he was hunting, two guns when he wanted to give his prey the coup de grace and a hammer when he wanted to torture.

 

Because he wasn't an ordinary hunter. He didn't hunt deer nor apes nor the famous tigers. Well, he didn't hunt apes or tigers. Sometimes he hunted deer for the crippled tiger outside of his house. The tiger, the hunter had named him Khan, had lost one of his paws in a trap of poachers. It made Khan too slow to hunt and too weak to fight with other tigers, so when the hunter had found him in the trap, he had freed him. Khan hadn't been fully grown. Probably he would have killed the hunter if he had been. So he had been too scared. It had cost months to make him trust the hunter, but it was worth it. Khan was a watchdog, well... watchtiger, but anyway helpful and sometimes he enjoyed to cuddle. 

 

The hunter controlled his munition. He had hunted down two today, but still the munition was enough, so he didn’t have to go to one of the black markets. It was one of the bad things in the job. The noise, the people. Ages ago he had loved to live in a city, well, it felt like ages. The time he still had a name. Now he had lost it like he had lost everything. His family, at least the little part he had, his friends, both, one committed suicide and the other one... was the other one, and he had lost  _ him.  _ It had been a long time ago that he had thought  _ his  _ name. 

 

He tried to remember  _ him _ _ .  _ The dark hair, the dark eyes, almost black, perfect white teeth, Westwood suit. He knew all these things, but he couldn't see them anymore. Maybe it was time.    
  
The hunter stared at the wooden box in which were the few things which were very important to him. Photos of  him amongst other things. So the hunter sat down on his mattress, the only bed he had there. The box on his lap. 

 

His head was empty. No voices in it, no thoughts, just nothing. And when he opened it. For a moment he stopped breathing. Not because of the eyes that stare at him from old photos, not because of the bullet, he still had a scar at his hip from. It was the things which weren't there. 

 

He  had taken them once, the dog tags of the hunter, who had been a soldier in another life, the sniper for a criminal, crazy mastermind, and who was now a hunter. The hunter's hands were starting to shake, his vision blurred.

 

Suddenly something was back, something he thought he had buried a long time ago:

 

Hope.

 

The hunter started to cry.


End file.
